


Stray

by crescentblood



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Biting, Class Issues, Dehumanization, Emotional Manipulation, Fire Emblem Kink Meme, Friendship, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Non-Consensual Groping, Non-Consensual Oral Sex, Panic Attacks, Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Rape Recovery, Self-Hatred, Semi-Public Sex, Sexual Abuse, Strangulation, Verbal Abuse, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-26
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:42:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 15
Words: 32,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24933211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crescentblood/pseuds/crescentblood
Summary: His father and brother are dead. Feeling lost and without hope, Ashe turns to the goddess for guidance, but instead finds a devil that drags him deeper into his pain and solitude.Kink meme fill.
Relationships: Ashe Duran | Ashe Ubert & My Unit | Byleth, Ashe Duran | Ashe Ubert/Original Male Character(s), Blue Lions Students & Ashe Duran | Ashe Ubert
Comments: 62
Kudos: 103
Collections: FE3H Kink Meme





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Response to a [ kink meme prompt](https://3houseskinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/1608.html?thread=1926472#cmt1926472) requesting academy-era Ashe non-con and eventual comforting by the other Blue Lions.
> 
> This fic contains **scenes of sexual assault and rape**. Do not read ahead if you are a minor or affected by such topics. Be safe, be healthy.

The cathedral was where Ashe had found himself the past week or so, drawn not by the comfort of the goddess' guidance, but by the ethereal calm that graced her halls of worship. It was never quiet, between the choir and the many who came to pray, but the everpresent hush was soothing in its own right.

Ashe himself didn't pray, not after the first few visits anyway. He had run out of words for the goddess, for Lonato, for Christophe, and could now only offer his presence, however paltry it may be. He sat at the far end of one of the pews, hands clasped between his legs and gaze somewhere beyond the sunrays that filtered in through the tall window. He was warm, comfortable, and yet hollow inside.

Not for the first time, and certainly not for the last, Ashe wondered _why_.

Why had he lost not one, but two sets of parents? Why had it been a classmate, a friend, who had been forced to put a blade through his father's heart? Why had Christophe revolted against Lady Rhea, causing his father to do so in turn?

Why was Ashe still serving under Lady Rhea when his family had apparently hated her?

Why did his heart only hurt more with each beat?

He never liked wallowing in his own despair, even had something of a reputation for being optimistic, but the dark thoughts plaguing him now were stronger than they'd ever been. It was hard to remain positive, gallant, virtuous, when Lonato had embodied all those traits and still met an untimely end.

Ashe sighed.

"So this is where the stray's been hiding."

The boy that approached him was familiar, vaguely, a member of Ashe's house but one that ran in different circles. Everything about his stride, upkeep, and confidence marked him as a noble and Ashe unconsciously found himself straightening, even as he realised what he'd just been called. "Ah, excuse me?"

His confusion was ignored as the boy took a seat next to him, thigh pressed right up against Ashe's own. "Offering a prayer to the goddess? If I were in your shoes, I'd be cursing her name instead."

"I wasn't- I'm not-" The unearned familiarity was not unlike, say, Sylvain, but there was an edge to it that made Ashe's skin crawl. "I'm sorry, _who_ are you?"

The boy huffed. "Hallam von Edevane, of course. I'd say it's rather unbecoming for a commoner not to know his betters, wouldn't you?"

Despite the rudeness, Ashe flushed. Hallam was right- Ashe _should_ know the nobles that he housed with, but nothing about the sharpness in Hallam's blue eyes or the self-confidence of his smirk rang a bell. "I'm sorry, again, I... I've had a lot on my mind lately-"

"This whole mess with Lonato, yes, I know. The old fool followed his real son all the way to the grave, if I heard it right. So then, where does that leave you?"

It wasn't the casual insult to Ashe's lack of blood ties that riled him- though it did sting, down in the part of him that could never stop comparing the street urchin to the valiant knight that had preceded him- but the way he insulted Lonato, dismissed his death as a 'mess', an inconvenience, as if Lonato was a stain to be washed away and not one of the greatest men that Ashe had ever known. What gave him, or _anyone_ the right to pass judgement on a man that they knew so little about?

Ashe's hands tightened.

"Could you, please, be a little more respectful towards him?" Hallam cocked a brow and Ashe faltered, but continued. "It was a tragedy, what happened, and to gloss over it... it isn't right."

"Oh, my apologies, was I not displaying the proper attitude to a traitor against the church?"

"He wasn't-"

"It couldn't be that you agreed with him, did you? Already planning a little coup d'état of your own?"

"What?! N-no-!"

A hand clamped down on his thigh and Ashe flinched, tried to pull himself away, but Hallam's grip was tight and he leaned in until his breath rolled against Ashe's ear. "That's what everyone's saying about you, y'know." he whispered, lips crooked in a conspiratorial smile. "The little common boy who only got into the academy by stealing his way into a noble family. And now that they've all been revealed as filthy traitors, how long until _he_ turns his blade on the Archbishop too...?"

"I'd never- I-"

"Bet he's been currying favours with the faculty and students, so they'll all turn a blind eye to his treacherous scheming. Just what is he doing to get in so many people's pockets? No money, no name... what else is he offering them..?"

Hallam's hand crept further up his thigh, his lips practically touching the shell of Ashe's ear, his breath hot and heavy and-

" _Stop!_ " Ashe thrust out blindly, hitting Hallam in the chest and forcing them apart. He tumbled back onto the bench, upper body sprawled awkwardly across it, frozen in place as fury flashed across Hallam's features for a split second.

But then it was gone, replaced with an almost predatory smile that only churned Ashe's stomach more. "Only relaying what I've heard, no need to overreact. Luckily for you, I'm gracious enough to overlook your violent little outburst."

The other churchgoers were staring at them. Ashe wasn't in the wrong, he _knew_ that, yet still he ducked his head, pulling himself back up and stammering out an apology to their audience. He didn't need to look over to know Hallam was smirking- the noble's presence was overwhelming. Ashe had never been the strongest boy, nor the tallest, but now he felt positively minuscule.

Hallam left soon after, but not after some final parting words, delivered again in a whisper as he stood and leant over the pew. "I'll be sure to talk to you again soon. Perhaps somewhere a little less... sacrosanct. I do hope you'll have gotten a lid on your temper by then."

Ashe flushed, shame-faced, but failed to stammer out a retort before he heard Hallam's footsteps grow distant. All he could do was grip the bench, bite his tongue, and fight against the turmoil stewing inside.

They were just rumours. Ashe could deal with worse- _had_ dealt with worse. The slander against Lonato was much harder to stomach, but really, Ashe should've known it would happen. Would he expect a burrow of rabbits to think kindly of the fox that preyed on them? Of course not.

And yet...

Ashe leant forward in his seat, hands now clasped in prayer rather than anger. What was he seeking from the goddess? Respite, answers, forgiveness? He knew not. 

Once again, Ashe was left wondering only _why_?


	2. Chapter 2

"Edevane?" Dimitri dropped his fork onto his empty plate and brought his hand up to cradle his chin, frowning in thought. "Ah, yes, they own some land in the Mateus territory. Not much, mind you, but the soil there is quite fertile for Faerghus, so they enjoy their share of wealth and status."

"Enjoy it too much." Felix said. "The lot of them are insufferable. They bark all day but their teeth are as dull as their minds."

"Felix." The boy scoffed, shovelling more food away. If anyone's reprimand was going to stick, it certainly wasn't going to be Dimitri's. "Anyway, Ashe, why do you ask?"

Ashe shrugged, avoiding the prince's eye. "I ran into one of them the other day. I... felt bad for not recognising the name, so I thought I'd look into it."

"That's understandable. They aren't one of the most prominent names in the kingdom. Still, I commend your thoroughness."

Dimitri smiled at him and Ashe tried to ignore how it turned his stomach. He felt dirty lying to anyone, let alone the future _king_ , but the thought of confiding in Dimitri about what actually happened in the cathedral was inconceivable. He could never bother His Highness with some silly rumours that didn't concern him. 

And really, that's all it had been. Rumours of no concern. A day or two had passed since that meeting, and Hallam had yet to approach him again, so Ashe's initial unease had tempered. Perhaps reasoned out would be the better term. He'd been miserable, even overwhelmed, and had lashed out as a result, and now he could look back objectively and know that the words alone couldn't hurt him.

(And yet, _and yet_ , the little boy who had once stolen to survive, who could never trust anyone or anything besides his own quick feet, _his_ hackles hadn't dropped since that meeting, just waiting for the other shoe to drop, for the eye of the storm to pass and reveal its true ferocity-)

"Are you alright, Ashe?"

Ashe blinked in surprise. He wasn't the only one; it wasn't every day that the prince's vassal saw reason to speak during mealtimes. "Dedue? Y-yes, I'm fine."

"Is there something wrong with your meal?"

He looked down and goodness, his plate was still full. Everyone else had all but finished. Even Annette, who took her time with anything that wasn't sweet, had polished off her plate. "Oh, er..."

How odd, he hadn't realised until now that he didn't have much of an appetite. He'd downed his drink eagerly, his throat parched from the morning's exercises, but his stomach... it didn't rumble at all at the sight and smell of a full plate. What had he even been doing while everyone else had been eating?

The rest of the table seemed to share the thought, and Ashe could feel many concerned eyes on him. Blood rushed to his cheeks. "I-I'm alright, really! Just spent too much time thinking and not enough eating, heh."

He dug his fork in, eager to prove that everything really was fine. "Please, everyone, don't wait on my account." he said, managing a small smile. "I'll catch up once I've eaten."

They wanted to inquire more, he could feel their unspoken questions lingering in the air, but then Dimitri nodded and the tension was cut. "If you insist. But please, do let us know if you start to feel unwell."

"Of course, Your Highness. Thank you."

Dimitri retrieved his plate and left the table, Dedue on his heels. Whereas the prince strived to be open with his opinions, Dedue kept many to himself, and that unnerved Ashe even now that they'd gotten closer. He was a treasured friend but, much like their professor, a stalwart enigma. He had been the one to notice that something was off with Ashe, and now Ashe couldn't help but worry about what else Dedue may notice.

On the other hand, he wasn't one to pry. That thought kept Ashe from fretting, at least a little.

Felix left next and without a word, leaving just Annette to hesitate by Ashe's side. "Um, hey, Ashe..?" Her fingers tapped nervously along the bottom of her empty plate. "I know I made a big song and dance the other day about how you were eating again after... after everything that happened last month, and that I was _so_ happy that you were feeling a little better and- anyway! The point is, you don't have to force yourself to eat if you're really not hungry! I won't get on your case about it, I promise!"

Of course that's where her mind would go. After Lonato's death, Ashe had spent many lunchtimes pushing his food around his plate, half-heartedly eating just enough to keep him going. The way Annette had lit up after he'd finally mustered the energy to finish a plate, the way the atmosphere around the table had immediately lifted, had left Ashe guilty that he'd wallowed for so long in his own grief, no thought at all as to how he was affecting those around him.

Which was all the more reason, he thought, to not let Hallam get to him. "Thank you, Annie, but I promise I'm fine. Simply got caught up in my own thoughts for a moment. You know, like Mercedes does when you don't keep an eye on her."

As expected, bringing up her best friend brought some of the mirth back into Annette's smile. "Don't be mean to her when she isn't here!" she said with a giggle. "Speaking of, I should get to the knight's hall to check on her. She's probably getting tired of looking after Sylvain and Ingrid."

"Now who's being mean?" The smile on Ashe's face was genuine now as Annette skipped down the aisle. There wasn't a single mean bone in her body, and it was hard to cling onto worries when her cheer was so contagious. He was grateful to have her not just as a classmate, but as a good friend. Grateful to the whole group, really.

He worked his way steadily through the meal, finishing it without issue. Once he'd forced himself through the few first bites, the rest went down easily. It was enough to convince even himself that his lack of appetite had been nothing more than a passing concern. He didn't feel _amazing_ , far from it, but certainly not as low as he'd been the past couple of weeks.

Ashe took the plate up to the counter, thanked the chef for the meal, and he felt fine. He certainly didn't hesitate while leaving the dining area, casting a furtive glance around for a certain someone he might recognise, and neither did he feel their answering gaze scorch his back as he hurried out.


	3. Chapter 3

Stable duty was one of Ashe's favourite chores. Lonato had possessed a sizeable collection of horses, and Ashe had been enamoured by them the second he had entered the estate as the newest son of Gaspard. He had many childhood memories of roaming the plains with his brother, Christophe holding the horse's reigns while Ashe would feel safe tucked within his arms.

It was for that same reason that he had been avoiding the stables recently, taking weeding duty whenever he could- even though his legs weren't built for so much kneeling, and he'd always spend the next day hobbling around the monastery. But now... it was still painful, but it was merely a lining to his cherished memories of old. It hurt to remember those times he'd never experience again, but it hurt even more to try and ignore them.

Hence why he was now helping Mercedes clean out the horses' gear, the awning keeping the worst of the sun off them while they scrubbed the leather until it shined. A few feet away, Sylvain and Felix were grooming one of the horses- or were supposed to be, at any rate, but every time Ashe looked over they seemed to be in the middle of a spat.

"Another one done." Placing the cleaned saddle on the ground, Mercedes rose to her feet and stretched out the kinks in her arms and legs. "You're very good at this, Ashe. It feels like you've worked through twice as much as I have!"

Ashe laughed off the compliment. "It's simply work I have experience with, that's all." He paused in his own scrubbing, wiping at the sweat that dotted his brow. "Would you like to take a break? If I had to guess, it'll be another hour or two until we're finished."

"A break sounds lovely. And a cold drink sounds lovelier! I'll take a walk to the kitchen and get a pitcher for us."

"That does sound great! Thanks, Mercedes."

She smiled and strolled over to the other two boys, relaying the plan to them. Even while out of earshot, Ashe could see the smirk on Sylvain's face as he took the chance to flirt with Mercedes... a smirk that quickly became a wince as Felix smacked him upside the head. Would he ever learn?

Ashe got to his own feet and stretched, his throat keening as his back welcomed the pull. It covered the approach of footsteps until they were nearly behind him, a second shadow joining his own on the ground.

"Got a minute, Ashe?"

Despite the heat of the day, a shiver ran down Ashe's spine.

Hallam didn't give him a chance to reply before a palm was pressed against the small of his back, leading Ashe none too gently towards the stable building. "I just need to speak with you quickly." Hallam said, doing nothing to quell the panic rising in Ashe's gut. Sylvain and Felix were still in the heat of argument, neither of them noticing Ashe's pleading, silent stare. He tried to call out but his throat was suddenly dry, part of him trying to reassure that he was worrying over nothing, the other part of him too worried to speak.

The stables were far warmer than outside, and stuffed with the heady scent of hay and horse. Now that they were alone, Hallam pulled at Ashe more forcefully, nearly making him trip over his feet as he was led past the horses, up to the farthest empty enclosure and shoved up against its wall.

"Been well, stray?" There was something dark in Hallam's eyes that triggered Ashe's flight response, but the larger boy had his hands either side of Ashe's head. "Heard you've been asking around about me."

Ashe forced himself to breathe. He'd dealt with people like this, through every stage of his life. They fed on fear and hesitation. "I didn't know who you were. That was rude of me, and I wanted to fix that. That's all."

"And yet rather than simply come talk to me, you skulked around and asked questions behind my back. Fishing for gossip, were you?"

"No, no, of course not!"

"How very _common_ of you." Hallam sneered and leaned in, his breath hot against Ashe's face. "You grovel and play nice at the nobility's feet while seeking out any sort of weapon you can use against them."

"That's not it at all!" Why was he so insistent on twisting Ashe's words into something awful?! Defiance flared in him, and Ashe attempted to duck under the hand propped up next to him. "I really don't mean you any harm, and- and I have work to do, so please-"

"The way I heard it, you're on break right now." Hallam scoffed and pulled his arm away, only allowing Ashe a step before he continued. "A sneak, a liar, _and_ a thief. Truly unconscionable that they'd let vermin like you into the academy."

Ashe froze on the spot, fear chilling him to the bone. He turned back to Hallam- confident, smirking Hallam, who knew exactly what effect his words would have. "I- I don't know what you mean."

"You weren't the only one asking around, you know." Hallam walked in front of him and then stepped into his space, forcing Ashe back into the enclosure. "I sent a letter off to some friends of mine in Gaspard, and they had some _very_ interesting stories to tell about the late lord and the... how did they word it? 'Little orphan family' he picked up off the street."

The thick air was getting harder to breathe. Ashe could feel his hands trembling and clenched them into fists. "It's true that my siblings and I were adopted by Lord Lonato- anyone could tell you that..."

"But then surely that begs the question of how young, penniless Ashe kept his dearest family fed before he was brought in by the lord?" Hallam had pressed him against the wall again, and this time had no need to pin Ashe in place; it was all his legs could do to keep himself upright. "As a matter of fact, how _did_ you cross paths with Lonato in the first place..?"

Ashe had never told that story to anyone. Only his family knew, and- and his professor, but surely they wouldn't have..?! Ashe swallowed, wincing as it dragged down his paper-dry throat. "That- that isn't anyone's business, and I can assure you that it doesn't have any bearing on who I am now."

"Oh, doesn't it?" The crook of Hallam's lips was positively devilish. Ashe shrunk back, wincing as he felt Hallam's breath caress his ear. "You stole something off that Martritz girl, didn't you?"

What? _What?_ Ashe couldn't speak, overwhelmed with shock, horror, offense- the very idea that he'd steal from a friend, from someone as selfless and charitable as Mercedes... "I-I-I would _never_ -"

"Then what's the hurry, mutt?" Like a shark with the scent of the blood, Hallam looked ravenous as he dug deeper into his prey. "Why were you so eager to send her off? Why so eager to leave now? Got something under that jacket you don't want anyone seeing?"

"How- how dare you even _think_ -"

"How dare _I_?" Ashe yelped as a fist slammed down right next to his ear. "I will _not_ be talked down to by a filthy common _criminal_! And I won't be letting you get away with your pickpocketing either..."

Hands dug roughly into the front of Ashe's jacket and tore it open, buttons falling limply to the hay-covered floor. "Stop! Stop, get off-!" Hallam was focused on yanking up his hooded shirt and Ashe took the chance to shove his head down, knocking him off-balance just long enough for Ashe to lunge to the side, catch himself on the wooden partition and then-

" _Ghk!_ " Ashe's hood tightened around his neck and suddenly he couldn't breathe. Hallam dragged him back by the fabric, dug a hand into his hair and then slammed his face against the partition once, twice, until Ashe saw stars. A knee collided with his stomach next and Ashe retched, tried to curl around the pain but was flung back to the wall and one of Hallam's hands held him there by the throat while the other yanked his shirt away and then slid down, past the curve of his hip and the rim of his pants and-

Ashe still had no breath so his whine was a silent one as Hallam roughly squeezed his crotch. Ashe grabbed both of his arms, trying to stop Hallam from holding him and- and _touching_ him but there was no strength left in his limbs. "You like that, huh?" Hallam's dark hair had fallen into disarray, his eyes were keen and hungry, and Ashe could swear there was a jaggedness to his toothy grin. He looked mad. "Figures you would, whore."

Hallam released his neck so he could yank down Ashe's pants instead, exposing his sensitive region to the balmy air. Ashe gulped down air but it wasn't enough to scream. He tried to scratch at Hallam's arm, tug at his hair, but the boy only laughed and lunged forward to take Ashe's neck in his teeth, biting down on the fair skin until he broke it.

Ashe stifled a sob as he felt a hot, wet tongue lap at his blood, felt rough fingers groping at his thighs. What had he done to deserve this? Why him?! He prayed silently to the goddess for help, his body too weak to help itself, his mind sluggish and helpless against this awful, awful assault...

And for a second, it seemed like the goddess had heard. The stable door creaked open, and both parties froze as a familiar voice leaked in. "-and we'd have been finished half an hour ago if it wasn't for your pathetic preening-"

"Fe-Fel-!" A hand clamped over Ashe's mouth, trapping the cry for help. His desperation renewed, Ashe clawed at the skin with all his might, kicked out at Hallam's legs, twisted his head every which way and tried to bite the hand that silenced him.

In response, Hallam pressed up fully against Ashe, crushing him against the wall and- and Ashe felt sick to the stomach when he felt an unmistakable bulge press against his inner thigh. "You want your little friend there to join in?" Hallam whispered, chuckling darkly in Ashe's ear. "Fine, go ahead. I'm sure someone with as sharp a tongue as Fraldarius has a hundred different ways to call you a slut and a thief."

Hallam freed his mouth, and that was his chance! He'd call to Felix and he'd hurry over with blade in hand, strike Hallam down and rescue Ashe like a knight from one of his tales.

Only...

_"Writers of these stories are worse than tyrants."_

_"That's what everyone's saying about you, y'know...Traitor..."_

Felix... Felix wouldn't care about the words of gossipers. He wouldn't care that Ashe was a commoner. He'd see the situation for what it was and he'd do the right thing, wouldn't he?

Or was that only the idealised version of him that existed in Ashe's head?

That moment of hesitation was all that Hallam needed. "And Gautier's out there too, isn't he? I heard he'll stick his dick in anything that breathes. Even a disgusting criminal like you."

Ashe could see the dark blue of Felix's ponytail as he led the horse into the stable. He could hear his grumblings over the breathing of the horses. There were only two or three of the creatures between them; Felix likely couldn't see Ashe, but he'd hear him clearly.

And he would help.

He would.

Wouldn't he?

He'd help a thief. He'd help the son of a traitor. He'd see how Ashe's dick was hardening from being groped and know that he hadn't consented.

Hallam's teeth came down to Ashe's body, biting roughly at his nipple, and Ashe covered his mouth so Felix couldn't hear his cry.

Hallam glanced up, looking pleasantly surprised, and laughed against Ashe's chest. "Now you understand it, stray." He bit and licked a trail back up to Ashe's neck, tugged his growing erection painfully, and all the while Ashe let him, _helped_ him, kept himself quiet while Felix worked only feet away. 

He _was_ disgusting.

A second horse was led out, and then the two were alone again in the stable. Ashe was numb to the marks that Hallam left on his body, too deeply mired in his disgust for himself. A commoner, a thief, and now a coward.

He understood now, why the goddess had forsaken him. It was karma.

Ashe didn't know long he lingered on that thought, how long he was limp while Hallam kissed and licked and bit as he please, but soon enough he became aware of the passage of time, and tried again weakly to push Hallam off of him. "The others, they'll... they'll be looking for me, soon, they'll be wandering where I went."

Hallam hummed and pulled himself away, almost to Ashe's surprise. "You're right, for once. You'd better work quick then."

"Wh-what?"

"You think I'd go to all this effort to make you feel good and then not expect anything in return?" Ashe didn't feel good- he felt sick, disgusting, wretched and horrible- but arguing that point was useless. He watched with an all-encompassing dread as Hallam undid his own pants, finally exposing his weeping cock.

"On your knees, mutt."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ashe didn't like me writing this. He won't pass his Advanced exam :(


	4. Chapter 4

"Ashe, buddy," Sylvain laughed, uneasily, rubbing his cheek where an arrow had just skimmed past it, "you nearly scarred my beautiful face with that one."

"I'm so sorry Sylvain!" Ashe dropped the bow before there were any more casualties, almost surprising himself with the skitter of wood on stone. "I-I don't know what happened..."

But he should have expected it anyway. His hands had been shaking ever since he picked up the weapon. His eyesight and his focus, both normally as sharp as an arrowhead, were foggy. Only a handful of his two dozen shots had come close to the inner ring of his target, and the arrow that had nearly struck Sylvain wasn't the first to have missed it completely.

Bad enough that he was such a wreck, but now he was on the verge of hurting others too.

"You would've had yourself to blame if it had connected, Sylvain." said Ingrid. She brought her lance to rest and scowled at him. "How many times have I told you not to walk behind the targets when someone's training there?"

Sylvain shrugged. "But it's such a trek otherwise. And I never would've thought our star shooter would miss the mark so badly..."

Ashe's stomach churned as Sylvain turned his smile on him. "What's up with that, Ashe? Fall out the wrong side of bed this morning?"

"I suppose..." he chuckled sheepishly, hoping that would be the end of it, hoping all his little mistakes and slip-ups over the past week wouldn't add up to a bigger picture, wouldn't lead to people questioning why he was so tired and distracted...

He hoped for too much, in this instance. Sylvain walked over to Ashe, leant down until they were eye-level, and placed a hand on his shoulder.

_One hand on his shoulder, the other in his hair, keeping him kneeling, keeping him in place-_

"Hey, you feeling alright? You look a little pale."

"Me?" Ashe withheld a wince as his voice cracked. " _Ahem_ , I'm fine. As fine as ever. Just a little off my game today, I suppose."

"That all?" Ashe had always thought Sylvain was carefree- to a fault, even- but the look in his eyes now was serious, almost searching, even as a smile remained plastered on his face. Ashe tried not to shiver. He knew that Sylvain couldn't see through to the filth under the surface, all the bruises and bites and depraved acts that made Ashe sick just to remember, but...

But then it wasn't just Sylvain. Ingrid was there too, her frown now concerned as she gave Ashe a once-over. "Wow, yeah, you're not looking too good Ashe. And Sylvain never notices someone's looks unless they're a pretty girl."

"Alright, _that_ one was uncalled for."

Ingrid ignored him and instead turned her attention to someone over Ashe's shoulder. "Hey, Mercedes, can you come over here please?"

Bile rose in Ashe's throat. It'd be so easy for her and her white magic to pick up on something wrong. She'd realised his cheek was injured (from being slammed into the partition- he'd lied to her and claimed he tripped) and stemmed the bruising before it even appeared. Now, a week later, there was no sign of the injury.

But there were still plenty of others. Reflexively he yanked his sleeve down, knowing his wrists were purple and red from being held down so tightly. "Really, I'm fine!" He tried to insist, but his voice had dried up, and his vision was swaying...

"How can I help?" he heard Mercedes ask, her voice as gentle and airy as always. "Oh dear, Ashe, are you feeling unwell?"

He did feel sick. Light-headed and weak and nauseous. If he moved even an inch, he was worried that he'd throw up. And it wouldn't just be vomit that stained his friends' shoes, but sticky strings of white...

_He was always ordered to swallow._

Delicate fingers pressed against his forehead and Ashe flinched. Mercedes was checking his temperature, his skin warming hers. She shouldn't touch him. He was filthy, and no amount of late-night washes, of scrubbing his skin until it was raw and red and sometimes even bleeding, would strip him of the taint. He didn't want to make her filthy too, he _couldn't_ -

"Your temperature does seem to be a little high. Have you been feeling dizzy at all?"

They were all staring at him now, and the longer they stared the more convinced Ashe was that they _knew_ , they knew all the disgusting things that had been done to his body, all the things he'd _let_ happen, and they knew he was a thief, and that he deserved every second of it...

"Ashe?"

 _Please,_ he wanted to beg, _please stop looking at me._

"Actually, Mercedes..." That was Sylvain's voice. The older boy had his palm against his forehead, his face scrunched up in a faux expression of pain. "I'm feeling a little unwell too... mind checking me over next?"

"Seriously, Sylvain?!" Ingrid reached over to twist his ear. "You are so inconsiderate sometimes!"

"Ach, ow, it was just a joke, Ingrid, I was lightening the mood!"

Their commotion had distracted Mercedes. Nobody was looking at Ashe now. He took in a shaky breath, the first in what felt like minutes. He willed his heart to stop beating so rapidly. Stupid, it was stupid of him to act so obviously like there was something wrong. He needed to get out of here before they pried any further.

"Maybe I do feel a little ill." he said. He picked up the bow so he'd have an excuse not to look at the others. "I... think I should go and lie down for a while. Hopefully it's just a passing bug."

"A little rest always helps." Mercedes agreed, and if she did, then the other two would have no reason to go against it. "Do you want me to come with you?"

"No, no, I'll be fine. I can walk okay."

"If you're sure..." Ashe nodded, a little too eagerly, stopping himself from hurrying out as quickly as he could.

Ingrid took the bow from him, resting her hand for a moment over his. He almost jerked it away. "I'll bring some food later, if we don't see you in the dining hall. Rest well, okay?"

Ashe felt a burning behind his eyes. They were always so considerate towards him, the sort of friends he'd dreamt of having when he was an urchin and didn't have the time for such things. He desperately wanted to hug them close, to thank them for being so kind, whether they knew of his sins or not. He wanted their help, or at least their reassurance that this would all somehow work out, that he would be okay in the end.

But he couldn't drag them down to his level.

"Thank you," is all he said instead, and left him there to share whispers and concerns as he left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ashe and I have reconciled and he's passed his exam! He is now a warlock :)


	5. Chapter 5

After a seminar spearheaded by Shamir, in which Ashe had ignored the quiet whispers between his classmates as they peeked in his direction, he returned to his room to find a note that had been slid under the door.

_Meet me at the training grounds this evening after dinner._

Despite the lack of signature and unfamiliar handwriting, Ashe knew who had sent it.

Like a switch had been flicked, all energy drained out of his body. He collapsed onto his bed, note held to his chest. He didn't want it anywhere _near_ him, but he didn't dare hide it away. It had already been a living hell to follow Hallam's every instruction to the letter; he didn't want to imagine what the noble would do if crossed.

How long was Ashe going to let this go on? He knew it wouldn't stop until he did something about it. He could try and stand up for himself, but he was the physically weaker of the two, built for speed and not power. The best he could do was run away from the monastery and hope he was too fast for anyone to catch up.

That was out of the question, obviously.

The only other option was to seek help, but just the thought of it made Ashe feel sick. That his friends or his other classmates or any of the faculty would know of all the ways that he'd been sullied on holy ground. How would he be able to take a step out of his room, knowing that something so perverse and intimate had been exposed?

And... and that was if anyone even believed him. It'd been two, three weeks since Hallam had first approached him. If Hallam claimed that what had been happening between them was consensual, that the common boy from the family of traitors was only making a fuss _now_ to paint Hallam in a bad light for his own wicked gains...

Ashe closed his eyes. He was so tired of it all.

He'd only meant to rest for a second- dinner wasn't far off- but in all honesty he hadn't been sleeping well for the past few weeks. He knew that dark bags clung to his eyes, and more than one of his friends had tactfully asked whether he was getting enough rest.

Going to sleep put him right back in those moments he'd do anything to forget. True rest only came to him when he was so tired that his mind didn't have the energy to replay his memories as dreams. But that degree of exhaustion didn't come around easily: as Ashe's breath started to slow, his mind slipping away against his wishes, it wasn't long until he was assaulted by memories, one after the other.

_First he was in a bedroom, the same furnishings and design as the one he slept in right now. His pants and underwear were wrapped around his ankle, and his undershirt was clenched between his teeth as he reluctantly pumped his own erection, putting on a show as Hallam called him names that made him squirm just to remember-_

_And then he was in the dining hall and it was Hallam's hand on his crotch, massaging him through the fabric, the bench holding his ministrations from view of the other students while Ashe bit his lip so hard that it bled-_

_And then he was on his back, a mattress below him, and he was being straddled. Hands were slipping something solid around his neck and then pulling it until it cut off his airway, until he couldn't breathe at all, until he was gasping desperately for air that wouldn't come-_

No, it wasn't a dream.

Ashe clawed at the thing around his throat, tried to buck off the person that sat atop him, but neither worked. His nails scrabbled uselessly against the leather of a belt, its buckle threaded through itself to make a loop that was tightening even more around his neck. He tried to scream but all that escaped was the strangled squawk of a dying bird.

"Finally awake, hm?"

He couldn't ask what Hallam was doing in his room, why he was strangling him. His vision was wavering and it was all Ashe could do to keep conscious. Unable to remove the belt, he grabbed onto Hallam's wrist instead, trying to wheeze out _'Please'_ but not even managing that. Hallam just scoffed and swiped away his hand.

Was this how he was going to die? In his own room, for reasons he didn't even know..?

Ashe was just slipping into unconsciousness, darkness peeling at the corners of his vision, when the weight lifted from his chest and suddenly he was tipped over onto the floor. His elbow and shoulder hit it hard, screaming in pain, but he barely noticed because thank the goddess he could _breathe_ again.

Like a landlocked fish, Ashe gasped and writhed violently on the floor. He yanked at the belt and this time there was enough leeway for the bulge in his throat to bob. Racked with coughing, Ashe forced himself up to his knees, crawling in the direction he thought the door was in, desperate to get away from the threat...

Only for Hallam to yank him back, quite literally, pulling the belt tight like he was a frenzied horse in need of calming. Ashe whined as the leather tightened around him again, and he followed the pull just to stop himself from getting strangled.

"I thought this would only do for punishment, but actually..." Fingers threaded through his silver hair and yanked Ashe up so he could see Hallam. The boy had sat himself properly on the bed, legs spread apart so Ashe could see, with no amount of revulsion and dread, that he was already hard. "It's a good look on you. A nice little leash for a disobedient mutt."

The pieces finally clicked together. Ashe must have slept right through dinner, and when nobody had arrived at the training grounds like Hallam had ordered... "I'm s- I'm sorry." Ashe gasped, his hands squirming between the belt and his neck, terrified of it tightening again.

"'Sorry' doesn't bring back wasted time." Hallam twisted his grip, savouring Ashe's breathless whine. "If you're really feeling apologetic, then you can get to work right away."

His hold loosened. Normally Ashe would hesitate, even now too disgusted to involve himself right away, but Hallam gave a twitch of the belt and fear won out over his revulsion. Ashe crawled up until he was kneeling right in front of Hallam and started stripping him of his lower garments.

This was always how their 'routine' started, when there wasn't anyone around to see them. Once Hallam's cock was revealed, Ashe wrapped one hand around it, pumping it gently to start off. But that was never enough on its own, so once Ashe could breathe properly again, and he'd sufficiently wettened his lips, he leaned down so he could take the cock's head into his mouth.

The taste of salty flesh would never fail to turn Ashe's stomach, but he'd gotten better at suppressing his nausea. If he choked, Hallam would grab him by the back of his head and yank him forward until the dick was down his throat and he couldn't breathe at all. He'd learned it was better to do it quickly and do it well, get it over with as quickly as possible- now especially, with leather still caressing his throat.

That didn't mean he hated it any less. If anything, Ashe abhorred himself for letting things progress to the point that he'd puzzled out a method to make it more palatable. A method that only even worked to a certain point; once he'd pumped the shaft and sucked the head until he tasted bitter pre-cum, Hallam tugged his hand away and grasped him by the hair, urging him down onto the cock until his mouth had enveloped it completely.

He heard Hallam hiss. "Goddess, your mouth feels so good..." He thrust into it and Ashe whimpered, fighting the urge to choke. "Wish I could fuck your face every day..."

Ashe squeezed his eyes shut, knowing it wouldn't make it any better, that he'd still taste the cock and hear those horrible, degrading words. "You were made to be fucked, you know that? Could've made a fortune if you'd whored yourself out instead of sneaking your way in here..."

 _Don't gag._ was all that Ashe thought to himself. He couldn't get mad. He couldn't fight back. He just had to follow the rhythm, keep his cheeks sucked in and his tongue caressing the underside of Hallam's cock until he sped up the pace and dumped his load into Ashe's waiting mouth.

_Whore. Cum hole. Don't gag. Disgusting harlot. Slut. Don't cry._

He didn't know what were his own thoughts and what were the words being hissed between Hallam's teeth as his cock pumped faster. Ashe could feel its head up against the back of his throat. Drool trickled out the sides of his mouth. _Look at your fucking mess. You love it so much, you fucking slut? Then take it, lick it all up like the filthy mutt you are..._

But Hallam didn't come down his throat. He yanked Ashe away, cock coming out with a wet _pop_ , and Ashe had no time to respond before strings of semen were being shot across his face; over his cheeks, in his open mouth, coating his closed eyelids.

He'd thought being forced to swallow it was degrading enough, but having it all smeared across him like he was some dirty rag? It made Ashe want to curl up and die.

Hallam pumped out the rest of his erection with his own hand, bringing it up to Ashe's lips so he could smear them in white. "You look so fucking good like that." He used the belt to tug Ashe closer, then let go of his flagging dick and grabbed Ashe's chin so he could tug his face up to Hallam's. "Thank me for it, stray."

Ashe could only see out of one eye, the other held shut by drying cum. Hallam looked so unbearably smug, so _happy_ about abusing him. And Ashe knew he deserved it, had been told as such so many times that he didn't know whether he or Hallam had said it more, but more than that?

He was tired.

Ashe gathered the semen in his mouth and spat it into Hallam's face.

Maybe now Hallam would kill him, and he wouldn't have to worry about this anymore.

* * *

Hallam came close.

A knock on the door roused Ashe from unconsciousness. His eyes flickered open and then immediately shut, a groan permeating his body as he became aware of the intense pain around his neck. It hurt just to breathe, and trying to move set it aflame.

He brought his hand up and flinched when he felt the belt that was still wrapped around him. He remembered now; Hallam slamming his face into the floor, kicking him in the stomach until he wheezed, and then grabbing the belt and tightening, tightening, tightening, until Ashe fell unconscious with the certainty that he wouldn't wake up again.

But he had. He didn't know yet if he was happy about it.

Another set of knocks.

"Ashe?"

He'd recognise that baritone anywhere. Dedue wouldn't burst in, not without good cause, but still Ashe felt a dull panic sweep through him. His face was still splattered with cum- and blood, he now realised, from when his nose had been smashed against the floor. He could only imagine how badly his neck was bruising. There'd be no easy explanation if Dedue walked in now.

"Is everything alright?"

 _No._ Ashe thought, and that simple word alone brought tears to his eyes. He'd promised himself he wouldn't cry- he'd beg and plead and degrade himself, but he'd never cry because of that dastard- so he forced the overwhelming misery back down before he replied, his voice so scratchy that it made him flinch to hear it. "F-fine, thank you, Dedue. Everything... everything's fine."

There was a pregnant pause. Ashe could practically see Dedue on the other side of the door, framing it with his imposing height. "You did not show up for dinner. The others were concerned."

An idle part of Ashe wondered about his choice of words- 'the others' were worried, so Dedue wasn't? Or did he not find his own feelings to be as relevant? "I, uh, I fell asleep." he answered, honestly enough. "I wasn't feeling too well, or too hungry, so I came to my room to get some rest."

Dedue was silent for a long while again, but that wasn't out of the norm for him. Still, it worried Ashe that he couldn't see how well his words had been received. He rolled over onto his stomach, stifling a whine as his throat burned.

"You still do not sound well. Should I bring Mercedes-"

" _No!_ " Ashe winced. He hadn't meant to yell but no, no, he absolutely could not let her near him, not while he was like this. "I-I mean no, it's fine, really. You, uh, you just woke me up actually, I must still sound husky from sleep."

Onto his hands and knees next. He was close enough to his bed that he could reach out and steady himself against it, all the while trying not to think of how he'd been kneeling there just before, taking a cock into his mouth, like a _filthy, degenerate whore-_

"Ashe, I know that something is wrong."

He froze.

"Over the past two weeks you have withdrawn into yourself. It is a great source of concern for the others. His Highness wants to help, but he is unsure how to approach you when he doesn't understand what the problem is."

Ashe put a hand over his mouth, shivering at the wet touch of semen and blood. He'd promised himself he wouldn't cry.

"It is not my place to demand an answer, but I would implore you to seek help. If it is not something you wish to share with your friends, then I'm sure that our professor will listen to you as well." Another pause. "There are... many people who are willing to help you, Ashe."

Ashe didn't respond for a long time. His face was buried in the sheets, as if he could press himself down far enough to disappear completely. He didn't cry, he made sure that he didn't cry, but he still felt a sob tickle his throat.

"Thank you, Dedue." he whispered, not sure if it was loud enough to hear, not sure if Dedue was even still there. "Thank you for checking in on me. But I'd like to be alone now. I want to... I want some time to think."

"Of course. I will be next door if you need me." Part of Ashe wanted to tear the door open right there and throw himself into Dedue's arms, knowing there was no safer place, that Hallam couldn't touch him there. But he remembered the cum on his face, the leather around his neck. He couldn't stain a kind soul like Dedue with his indecency.

So instead he listened to Dedue leave, his footprints heavy on the landing, and he felt himself grow lonelier than ever before.


	6. Chapter 6

Ashe was dusting the shelves in the library when he was approached by Cyril, the younger boy as serious-looking as always. "Ah-ha, there ya are. Professor Byleth wants to see you. They say it's important."

"Is... that so?" Ashe's breath caught in his throat, and he couldn't blame the dust for it. He raised his hand to rub his neck, something of a tic he'd developed in the past few days, even though the fabric of his roll-neck shirt kept the skin hidden. It had drawn some eyes, but not nearly as much as if he'd forgone it, letting the world see the violent black and blue bruising that encircled his neck like a choker. His already restless nights had gotten much worse with the memory of being strangled.

He caught Cyril staring at him and yanked his hand back down, looking instead at the shelves before them. "Well, I shouldn't have too long to go before I'm finished in here, but..."

"You dusting the older books in the way I showed ya?" After their first time cleaning together, Cyril had slowly been adjusting to the idea of having Ashe as a chore buddy. Still, the position came with a lot of rules- so many that Ashe was amazed that Cyril could keep them all straight in his head.

It was worth it, though, to spend time together with a new friend. In spite of everything, Ashe found himself smiling. "Of course, of course. I've been handling them as delicately as I can."

Cyril nodded. "Good. I'll take over from here, then, and you can go see the professor."

"Are you sure? This is supposed to be my duty..."

"And you're also supposed to see the professor. Can't do both, so I'll do one for ya." He picked up the dusting cloth from where Ashe had put it on the shelf. "Also, don't take this the wrong way, but you look like you should be sleeping instead of working. You shouldn't be doing your chores when you're too tired, or you'll just make a mess of it. Believe me, I know."

Even the church's most earnest worker was telling Ashe to take time off. Though the intention was good, it left him feeling self-conscious. "I'll try and find some time to rest when I can. Thank you."

Leaving Cyril to the task, Ashe made his way downstairs. Though it was silly, he found himself tensing up each time a student passed him by. Hallam hadn't approached him since the incident with the belt, and Ashe was in no hurry to run into him.

A small part of him hoped that their last encounter could somehow have been their last, as impossible as that would be.

Byleth was in the Blue Lions classroom, where they always were when it came to meetings. Perhaps to make up for the fact that they were near impossible to track down otherwise. Beneath their stony demeanour lay a seemingly endless well of energy that kept them bouncing from one end of the monastery to the other, accomplishing in a day what some would take a week to work through.

Now, however, they were the very picture of a professional, tipping their head to Ashe as he poked his head around the door. "Hello, Ashe. Come in."

He slid inside and then, reluctantly, closed the door behind him. The _click_ of the latch made his breath falter. He was safe with his professor, he knew that with certainty, but even so his body hated the sensation of being enclosed.

"What did you need me for, Professor?" he asked, trying to sound casual. He knew very well what it could be about- what it likely _was_ about- but even after his talk with Dedue, he didn't know if he was ready to speak about it. "Something to do with this month's mission?"

"In a manner of speaking." They indicated to the space in front of their desk, and Ashe brought himself over to it. "I have reason to be concerned about your participation in the mission."

Ashe frowned. "Because of how it's connected to Lord Lonato? Professor, I can promise you that I'll do everything in my power to protect Lady Rhea, even if my father- even if Lonato was working against her."

 _Already planning a little coup d'état of your own?_ He fought back a shiver. Surely the professor hadn't been paying mind to those rumours? Surely...

They shook their head. "It's not that, Ashe. To be candid, it's your general state of mind that I'm concerned about."

"My... state of mind?"

Their eyes flickered to the side, and they were silent for a long moment as they composed their words. "Over the past month, I've had many of your classmates approach me with their concerns about your health."

...So it was as Ashe had feared. He felt he should speak up, downplay the need for concern, but his throat felt tight. He found himself rubbing it before he could stop himself.

"Even Felix and Dedue have stopped in for a word, and you should know even better than I how unusual that is for them. From what I've gathered, you've been having difficulties with concentration and focus; you've been spacing out at inappropriate times; you've taken to resting at odd hours and yet still seem to be in a constant state of exhaustion; and you've become a scarce presence at team activities. Is any of this inaccurate?"

Ashe's chest felt hollow. His heart was clenched in a dull panic. "It... all sounds so serious when you put it like that, haha..."

Byleth's stare was unwavering. No matter what answer Ashe gave, his professor would doubtless see through it. "...No." he whispered. "No, it- it's true."

"...Is it a problem I can help you with?"

He tried to answer, but no words would come out. Of course the professor could help- all it would take is a single report to them and the whole mess would be resolved by the day's end. It would be so easy.

And yet, at the same, it was impossibly hard.

Sensing his turmoil, Byleth leaned over the desk and spoke in a lower voice. "Ashe, whatever you tell me in here will be held in complete confidentiality. I won't report it to Seteth or Rhea if you don't want me to. Unless your life is actively at risk, I won't report anything to Professor Manuela either."

Their eyes softened. "I understand- perhaps more than most- how difficult it can be to seek the aid and trust of others. All I can do is offer my hand and my word that I want what's best for you, as do your friends. As your teacher, your well-being is my top priority."

Ashe almost told them everything in that moment. Every sordid detail from when he was first accosted in the chapel to the night that he'd nearly been choked to death. About how it was all punishment for the sins of his family and of his past, just another layer atop the filth that already existed. If Byleth wanted him expelled from the house after learning how deep his impurity ran, then he wouldn't fight against it. No, in fact, he'd welcome it.

But all it took was a moment of hesitation to stop him, for in that moment he took his first proper look at Byleth. There were cracks in the flawless appearance that Ashe had come to expect of the professor; a hint of purple underneath the eyes; thin lines of worry creasing their forehead; a reddening of the fingers where a quill had been pressed for too long. The amount of paperwork piled atop the desk was far more than the norm, he realised.

The Rite of Rebirth was just around the corner, as was the threat of the archbishop's assassination. Byleth had been professor for months now, but the gravitas of the current situation far outclassed the bandits and battles that they'd been dealing with thus far.

Ashe was exhausted- and, he suspected, so too was Byleth.

He couldn't tell them. Not now. His own issues were a triviality compared to the danger that Lady Rhea was in. The last thing the professor needed right now was a distraction. And- and besides, Hallam wasn't even bothering him right now. His concerns weren't urgent.

The professor wanted what was best for Ashe- but Ashe, too, wanted what was best for the professor.

"...Once the rite has been completed,"  
he said, speaking more confidently than before, "would I be able to talk to you then? I swear to you that I'll be at my best when it comes time to protect Lady Rhea, and then- and then after, I think... I think I can speak to you about what's been bothering me." 

As usual, it was impossible to tell what the professor was feeling by their expression alone. Ashe could feel sweat beading his forehead as the time ticked on, until finally Byleth gave him a curt nod. "Very well, I can agree to that. If your situation changes, however, do not hesitate to approach me again."

"Of course. Thank you so much, Professor." He offered them a bow. He could feel his heart's rapid pace begin to slow. He knew it was cowardly, in a sense, to postpone the inevitable, yet at the same time it felt almost... gratifying. He had finally taken action. He didn't know if it would be okay in the end- honestly, he doubted it- but now it _would_ end. Having that uncertainty peeled away was more satisfying than Ashe could've imagined.

The relief only lasted as long it took him to walk to the door, as no sooner had he wrapped his hand around the knob did he hear "Actually, Ashe, wait."

 _Oh Goddess, they figured it out. Did I let something slip? Did they see one of the bruises? Is there a red or white stain on my clothes that I missed?_ The comfort of being able to confess his sin quickly devolved into panic at the thought of said confession being torn from him. No, Ashe couldn't tell the professor what had happened- not now, not ever. It was a vile secret that he would carry with him all the way to his grave and then down to the pits of-

"Sylvain was looking to speak with me. If you happen to see him, can you let him know I'm available?"

_Stupid mutt._

Ashe let out a deep breath, fighting to keep his knees from shaking. "Of- of course!" he squeaked, and then darted out of the room before the professor could say anything else. He collapsed on the other side of the wall, hugging his legs as he got his breath back.

No, this secret was one that wouldn't be pried out so easily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sylvain's about to invite Teach to the beach #PutDedueInFEH


	7. Chapter 7

Ashe made one too many mistakes on the night of the rebirth.

The first had been during the battle itself. Though he had kept by his promise to the professor and fought to the best of his ability, he had still managed to flub a shot and paid for it with an orb of miasma to his chest. Mercedes had been kept busy on the other side of the chamber, and so Ashe had been forced to keep fighting with a torso that ached with each step.

It wasn't the worst injury that he'd ever dealt with, but it did leave him exhausted by the time the fight was over and Mercedes was able to tend to him. That was his second mistake- only allowing a cursory examination and heal. His chest had still panged after Mercedes had smoothed her hands over it once. Anything more elaborate than that, however, would've required him to lift his shirt up so she could examine the skin directly. He had no excuse prepared for the smattering of days-old bruises that marred his body, so he had insisted that the first heal was more than enough.

It was a combination of the two, his tiredness and his pain, which led him to the greatest mistake of all, which was to turn in early for the night rather than follow the others to the after-action meeting.

He hadn't suspected a thing as he started the long walk back from the cathedral to the dormitories. Emerging from the mausoleum, Ashe took a step into the chapel and then paused. It was eerie at night, the ceiling coated in darkness so that the walls seemed to reach up into infinity. He turned his attention back down to the pews, and shuddered as he remembered sitting in them just weeks ago, words of treachery and deceit being whispered in his ear.

No, he didn't want to remember that. Rather than passing by the pews to get to the front entrance, Ashe exited instead by the western doors. The night's cool air was refreshing, and Ashe felt just the slightest bit better as he breathed it in deeply.

The shadowed outline of the patrol officers could be seen flying overhead, small and barely perceptible against the dark blue sky. Ashe didn't have any strong feelings on flying, but watching over the monastery at night, alone up in the clouds, was a tempting thought. Especially nowadays. No one could get to him up there.

Goddess, he couldn't go a second without tripping himself up in unpleasant thoughts. He shook his head stubbornly and then continued his walk. Down the stairs to the western arena, and then up again to the common area that overlooked the canyon. One of the few spots that students could reliably run into Professor Byleth for a talk.

Ashe supposed he wasn't in a rush, so he walked over and took a seat on the old bench. During the day, one could watch the pegasi and wyverns patrol the monastery, and hear the choir emanating from the chapel. It was pleasant in an almost ethereal way.

There wasn't much to see or hear at night, but the unpresuming darkness was relaxing in its own right. Ashe's eyes slid shut and he focused only on his breathing- deeply in, deeply out, the crisp air like a balm to the heated ache of his body. For that treasured moment he was no longer at Garreg Mach, but in a place all of his own. A place where no-one could see him, and he in turn could not see anyone.

And that was his fourth mistake.

He didn't hear the footsteps. He didn't have a chance to run before a hand came down between his shoulder blades and shoved him to the ground.

"There you are."

His chest burned again but Ashe paid it no mind as he hurried up onto his hands and knees, head empty but for the blind panic of a startled animal. He wasn't able to raise himself any further before a boot crashed into his ribs, robbing him of air and sending him back down to the stone.

No, no, not tonight, he was so _close-_

"You have fun killing all those insurgents?" There was a dangerous tinge to the lilt of Hallam's voice. Ashe tried to scramble up again and cried out as a knee pressed down heavily on his back. "Run into any of your old friends? Suppose nothing will get you in Lady Rhea's good books quite like killing your fellow traitors."

Anger coiled in Ashe's stomach, exacerbating the burn of his injury. "I'm _not_ -" He slammed Hallam's knee with his elbow and was surprised when it worked, the other boy losing his balance enough for Ashe to wriggle out from under him. He scrambled to his feet, escape once again within his grasp.

But there wasn't enough light for him to immediately get his bearings. Ashe hesitated for just a moment as he gathered himself. His fifth mistake.

A hand wrapped around his lower leg just as he recognised the chapel's entrance and tried to sprint towards it. Ashe yelped and keeled over, hitting the stone face-first. Stars burst across his vision, and the taste of blood filled his mouth as he bit down on his inner cheek.

But even as he lay there, pain throbbing through him, Ashe knew he couldn't stop. He scraped his hands across the stone floor, forcing himself forward in an agonisingly slow crawl. It wouldn't work, it wouldn't work, but it had to, he had to _try_ -

Something slid under his throat, and then, with a soft _clink_ , a belt tightened around his neck. Ashe froze immediately.

He didn't want to, but he couldn't stop himself. His body remembered being choked even more clearly than he did. Even as he screamed at himself to move, his muscles only twitched in place. "Yeah, figured you needed reminding of your place." Hallam pulled at the cord, just enough so that Ashe could feel the pressure on his neck, and suddenly he was trembling, cowed with that one gesture alone.

He couldn't just let this happen but Goddess he was going to, he was going to roll over and expose his soft belly to a starving beast, like an _idiot_ , like a stupid, stupid-

"Mutt." Hallam spat the word like it was a curse, his knee once again digging painfully into Ashe's spine. "Could've seriously hurt me there. Are you really that desperate to be punished? Did it turn you on that badly last time?"

Ashe wanted so badly to spit back at him, to somehow turn the tables and have Hallam on the ground and then hurt him, and it scared Ashe how badly he wanted to hurt someone but he couldn't handle it anymore. All the rage and the pain and the fear were pooling together with nowhere to go. He could feel them burning behind his eyes.

No, he wouldn't cry. He couldn't.

Instead he winced as Hallam grabbed hold of his wrist, pulling it up to his neck and then doing the same with the other. He couldn't parse why, not at first, and even if he had, he wouldn't have been able to stop Hallam from tying them together with the excess length of the belt, so tightly that if Ashe struggled then he'd only end up strangling himself.

Still he tried, instinctively, and whimpered as he felt the leather construct against his skin. "Please, don't- don't do this..."

Fingers wrapped into his hair and then forced his face flush against the ground, a silent command to shut up. "Do you know how much trouble you and your ilk have put me through?" Hallam barked. His knee lifted from Ashe's back and instead he was straddled at the waist. "My father has some months-old correspondence with the Western Church and suddenly we're all suspected of allying with those heretics."

"And _meanwhile_..." Ashe's head was lifted from the ground just to be slammed into it again, "You, an _actual_ apostate..." And again, "Get to have free reign of the church ground. It's _disgusting_." And again. The stone was stained red with the blood from Ashe's mouth and nose. His head was on its side, facing the chapel, and the large building spun dangerously in his vision.

Ashe's body spasmed as he fought back the vomit coming up his throat. "'m not... please, I _swear_ I'm not-"

"Not another word out of you." Suddenly fingers were being jammed into his mouth. Ashe groaned around them. "Lap them up, dog. Put that dirty mouth of yours to use."

He didn't know what Hallam meant or wanted but he complied as best he could anyway, coating the two fingers liberally with his saliva. He heard the rustle of fabric behind him, the soft _slap_ of skin-on-skin, the increased labour in Hallam's breathing, and Ashe almost counted himself lucky that it wasn't possible for him to turn around and confirm his suspicion.

It seemed to go on forever- the aroused gasping from behind, the fingers violating his mouth- until finally he was freed from both, Hallam's hand pulling away from his face and allowing Ashe to weakly take a gasp of air.

He knew that couldn't be the end of it, but he still wasn't prepared for how awful his night was going to become.

He felt Hallam's other hand tug at his lower garments first, and even though he knew that resisting was futile, Ashe tried to squirm away from the touch. Hallam yanked his arms up, tightening the belt in turn, and let Ashe writhe and gasp until he wheezed out a _'Sorry'_ and was dropped unceremoniously back to the ground.

Pathetic, stupid, weak. Ashe could feel himself shaking violently as his ass was exposed to the night air. Anyone else would've been able to free themselves. Anyone else wouldn't have let this happen in the first place.

This was punishment. He deserved this.

And still, knowing that, knowing that everything that was happening was his own fault, still Ashe tensed and yelled as Hallam's saliva-soaked fingers jammed themselves into his behind, the muscle immediately burning in protest as they thrust in and out without mercy.

Hallam had done so many terrible things to him. So many vile, repulsive things. But not this, never this. "S-Stop, stop! Not this, please, not-!"

His protests died as Hallam clamped his other hand over Ashe's mouth, absorbing every whine and whimper and groan as his fingers dug even deeper, his knuckles flush against Ashe's skin. "Don't you think it's about time we went all the way?" he asked, with a smile that couldn't be described as anything but evil. "You saved the archbishop's life! You're a big-shot hero. Isn't that worth celebrating?"

Hallam's fingers scissored apart and Ashe bucked wildly, screaming uselessly against the gag, cursing the pain and cursing Hallam and cursing himself most of all. In and out they went, forcefully loosening the muscle and brushing against sensitive parts that made Ashe sick from the suffering and the pleasure all mixing together. Nails scratched against his insides and Ashe felt tears spring into his eyes. He wouldn't, he wouldn't...

He couldn't be happy when Hallam finally yanked himself out. He knew the worst was to come.

For a second his mouth was free as Hallam pulled away, but Ashe had no energy to scream. He was sick, too, of the thought of drawing anyone's attention while he was like this. Beaten, tied up, and violated. He squeezed his eyes shut before his tears could escape. " _Please_ , Hallam, d-don't... I'm begging you..!"

Some sort of cloth was jammed into his mouth and then tied around it. Hallam slapped him on the cheek when he fought against it, then wrapped his arms around Ashe's waist and forced him up to his knees. He sobbed into the fabric as one hand gripped his elevated waist, the other doubtlessly guiding Hallam's cock to his behind. He twitched as he felt it, hot skin against his own, but any writhing was useless as Hallam brought his body down on top of Ashe's, his lips flush against Ashe's ear.

"Don't act like you don't deserve this." He hissed.

And then he was forcing himself inside, cock barely slickened and burning Ashe with every inch of him that it took, and Ashe bit down into the gag so hard that it felt like his teeth would shatter. The sound that came from him wasn't human, as brutal and animalistic as the sex being forced upon him.

_Kill me._ Ashe begged the goddess. _Strike me down here and now._

Hallam buried himself all the way inside, groaning obscenely in Ashe's ear and given him nary a second to adjust to the intrusion before he had Ashe's hips in both hands and was using the grip to slide himself back out. Ashe's body quivered from how tense it had become, his inability to relax making the pain all the harder to bear. He didn't know what was worse; having something strange and hot and pulsing inside of him, or the yawning ache once it had slid back out, a reminder that he'd been misshapen and defiled.

Then Hallam jerked his hips, thrusting in much faster than before, and Ashe was no longer given the luxury of discerning all the different, awful sensations that crashed down upon him at once.

His knees and face scraped against the ground as Hallam pumped in faster, harder, tearing Ashe apart on the inside as readily as the stone below tore apart his skin. Ashe had never been more aware of his body as he was now, able to pinpoint every point of pain from his scabbed knees to his bruised hips to his bleeding mouth to his aching, burning, splitting behind...

"Go on, you little cockslut." Hallam's voice was a viper in his ear, the poison in his words sinking down deep into Ashe's flesh. "Tell me you deserve it. Tell me how much a vile, back-stabbing whore like you deserves this."

And Ashe did. He scraped his head across the ground, up and down, tears finally spilling out from under his eyelids and leaving wet tracks down to the ground. There wasn't anything else left inside him, just a hollowness that grew bigger and bigger until it eclipsed all else, swallowing up the pain and pleasure of being fucked so relentlessly, all the shame and hatred until his mind was a hollow cavern where only the one thought presided.

_I deserve this._

And as he was brought to that revelation, Ashe's closed eyes were bathed in light. The foul squelching of his body being debased was overridden with a familiar sound, a warm crackle like that of a roaring fireplace. 

And then there was the screaming, and the stench of burning flesh. Hallam was no longer inside him, an aching void where his flesh once was. Ashe forced his eyes open and realised that the sensations weren't just in his mind; there were flames now, and they were burning someone.

There was another sound of fire eating through the air, a sound that Ashe recognised, accompanied by the bright light of a fireball that could only have been created by magic. The screaming grew worse as Ashe heard the roar of the flames slamming against their target. 

He didn't know what was happening. He didn't care. Ashe curled into a ball, uncaring that his rectum seared with pain, that his arms weren't positioned right and it was making the belt around him tighten. He didn't care.

_Snap._ Ashe knew that sound from battle. The sound of bone snapping. The screaming grew worse, became positively feral, until Ashe wasn't certain that it came from a human at all.

"Get out of here before I break the other one too."

But that voice was human. Male. Recognisable. If sobs already weren't wracking his throat, Ashe would've retched.

He heard the screamer run away. Heard the other person walk closer. Ashe flinched, curled into himself tighter, wishing they would keep walking right past him and leave him there to rot like he deserved.

"Ashe?"

He'd never heard them sound so concerned. He felt their hand hovering over his hair. It came down, rubbing softly against his locks, and Ashe was too weak to buck it away even as the touch made him want to vomit.

"It's going to be okay Ashe." Sylvain whispered, as softly as a parent to their newborn. "You're safe now."


	8. Chapter 8

"I need to get this damn belt off of you."

No.

"Ashe, please, you're gonna strangle yourself."

Good.

He could hear Sylvain sigh, feel the heat of his hands as they hovered awkwardly over Ashe's body. Not wanting to touch him. Too _disgusted._ Ashe tried to wriggle away, sickened by how sore and hot and _wet_ he felt. Blood and sweat and drool and tears and semen. Vomit, too, if he kept himself steeped in it all for too long.

He pulled his arm up by accident and the belt grew tighter. He choked.

"Ashe!" Sylvain reached out for him in a panic. Ashe pulled back further, practically growling. No more. No more hands in his hair, on his body, inside him...

The hand clenched into a fist. Sylvain sucked a breath through his teeth- annoyed, maybe, or irritated. Why was he still here, wasting his time? "I know how impossible it is to believe right now, but I _swear_ that I'm not going to hurt you. You'll only be hurting yourself unless I can get that off of you."

How could Sylvain possibly know what this was like? He was far from the most ideal knight that Ashe had ever met, but he'd never done anything to earn this level of punishment. He couldn't have. He was a noble, not some conniving, back-alley thief.

_Stop bothering with me._ Ashe wanted to say, but the gag stilled his tongue.

Sylvain rested back on his haunches, sighing again as he pulled a hand through his scarlet hair. As fiery as the flames that he'd conjured up from the ether. Ashe remembered now that Professor Byleth had switched Sylvain to focus on magic during the lead-up to the rite.

It fully clicked then that Sylvain had been the one who saved Ashe. That he'd burned Hallam alive and snapped his bones without hesitation.

More tears spilled out, unending now that the dam had been broken. _Why? Why had he done that?_

"Look, Ashe..." Sylvain grimaced on the taste of the words that came next, "The others are going to come out the Mausoleum soon. You really want them to find you like this?" 

That, finally, gave Ashe pause.

"Let me take that belt off, and then I promise I'll bring you somewhere that no-one else will see you. That sound like a deal?"

He didn't want Sylvain to touch him, didn't want to stain his friend, but he had to agree that the alternative was worse. Forcing the rest of the Blue Lions to witness such a sordid sight... It was the very least Ashe could do to spare them from that.

So he nodded, reluctantly, and when Sylvain reached out to grasp the leather, Ashe flinched but didn't pull away. Part of him waited with dread for the touch to turn violent, to pull on the belt until he choked, but it didn't come to pass. Rather, Sylvain's touch was surprisingly gentle as he undid the knot keeping Ashe's hands in place, and then pulled away the buckle's latch so that the belt slid off his neck entirely. A weight lifted off of Ashe- much heavier than the belt should've been- and he took in a grateful breath, realising then that Sylvain had also pulled out the cloth that had gagged him.

And now those hands had wandered down to Ashe's waist and he yelped, kicking fitfully at Sylvain. "Sorry, sorry!" The elder boy immediately pulled back, genuine apology in his eyes. "I just wanted to pull your pants up, I wasn't thinking... can you do it yourself?"

That's right, Ashe could feel the night air biting at his exposed thighs, liquids that he didn't want to think about leaking from his behind and cooling against his skin. Blood rose to his cheeks, and he felt sick all over again as he scuttled away from Sylvain, ignoring the burn that permeated his battered body as he grabbed at his clothes and jerked them hastily back over his skin. It took too long to cover himself, and it hurt more than it should have, but it was the least he could do to protect Sylvain from his indecency.

In a clearer state of mine, he would've realised the deep irony of that thought.

Once that was done, Sylvain closed the distance between them again, this time careful to keep his hands where Ashe could see them. "Listen, Ashe; what I _should_ do right now is carry you over to the infirmary and call up Professor Manuela-"

Ashe shook his head automatically. Not her, not anyone that would poke and pry...

"-but, yeah, I figured you wouldn't want that."

"My room." Ashe flinched at the raspiness of his own voice, and the taste of blood on his tongue. If Sylvain took him there, then he could lock the door, barricade it if he needed to, and then he could rot away without bothering anyone else...

"Compromise: _my_ room." Sylvain scratched behind his ear. "I don't know a lot about white magic yet, but I should know enough to get us by. Plus, it's at the end of the corridor- no-one's getting to you without going through me first."

That almost made it sound like Sylvain was going to _protect_ him. "Don't..." Ashe shook his head, mopped away his tears, even as more kept coming. "Don't waste your t-time on me, please. This was all- all punishment and I... I need to serve it."

Sylvain's eyes grew wide in bafflement, and then in understanding, and then narrowed into a vicious anger that Ashe had never seen before. Rather, he'd never seen Sylvain bare an emotion so frankly. "Should've _killed_ that creep..." he hissed. Then he closed his eyes, swallowed, and then turned back to Ashe, his anger now reformed into a deep sincerity that made Ashe squirm to be examined with.

"Listen to me, Ashe. Whatever horsecrap that guy fed you, whatever he said to make you go along with what he was doing? Not a single word of it was true." He reached a hand up to Ashe's face and held it in the air, looking for permission. When Ashe didn't flinch away, he brought a thumb up to Ashe's eye and wiped away the tears that kept spooling out. The touch was so familiar, so like the gently firm hand of Lonato, that it only made Ashe cry harder. The one thing he'd promised himself he wouldn't do, and now he couldn't get it to stop. "People like that... they'll lie through their teeth to get you doing what they want. Twist everything around so it's somehow your fault. But it never is, so don't think that for a second."

He sounded so authoritative on the matter. How did Sylvain..?

"Now we're gonna go to my room, and I'm gonna heal you the best I can, and then you'll get wrapped up cosy in bed. Then you can sleep, or we can talk about it, or whatever else makes you comfortable. That sound good?"

It did. It really did. It was _too_ good, more than he... Ashe tried to fight the thought away, but it was stuck like a root in his mind. _You're filthy. A degenerate. You deserve nothing but the worst._ It hurt, just as badly as every ache and pain that throbbed through his body. It wouldn't hurt so badly if it wasn't true, right?

Ashe was brought out of that mire when something was suddenly thrown over his shoulders. He touched the fabric, realised it was Sylvain's coat, and opened his mouth to protest. He was dirty, covered in blood and sweat, and-

"Trust me, that jacket's been through worse." Sylvain smiled, like it was supposed to be a joke, but his tone didn't quite match his expression. When he spoke again, he sounded more natural. "I'm gonna pick you up now, alright? You couldn't walk all that way even if you wanted to, so don't even think about it."

Ashe didn't feel _that_ hurt. He was sure he could manage a walk, even if he had to be slow for it. But again Sylvain had that certainty in his voice, like he knew what he was talking about.

Ultimately, Ashe didn't have any strength left to argue. As much as he wanted to flail when Sylvain brought one arm under his knees and the other around his back, as much as it panicked him when he was lifted into the air, manhandled so easily, a reminder of how weak he was, Ashe just couldn't fight against it anymore. What limbs of his that weren't sore were limp with exhaustion.

So he would let Sylvain carry him back, and then he would rest, and then he'd have the energy to convince Sylvain not to bother any further than that. To leave Ashe alone, like he des-

_It's never your fault._

Goddess, it even hurt to think. Ashe's head lolled, coming to rest against Sylvain's shoulder as he carried them both away from the chapel. It wasn't so bad, if Ashe fought through his fear and loathing. If he pretended that he wasn't _him_ , that he was stripped away of his many layers of filth, a purified being that could enjoy the warmth of Sylvain's body and the comfort of being held so steadily.

He was reminded again of Lonato, and it was that thought that Ashe sought refuge in as he closed his eyes.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, this week was a bit hectic. Also this chapter turned out to be pretty thicc.

Though none of the students were wandering around so late into the evening, Sylvain and Ashe still happened across a few of the monastery's workers while on their way back to the former's room. They were even stopped by one of the guards as they passed the training hall, the man understandably concerned by the sight of Ashe's limp body.

"No need to be alarmed." Sylvain said to them all, dismissing their concerns with his usual smile. "Poor guy got hit with a nasty spell down in the Mausoleum. Our healer patched him up, but he still needs some help getting back to his room."

That was enough to get them past without further questions. When they were alone again, coming up to the first set of dormitories, Ashe heard Sylvain muttering under his breath. "And where were all of _you_ twenty minutes ago..?"

Would it have been better if Ashe had been found by a member of the faculty, and not one of his friends? He didn't know, but the thought made his throat tighten. When he spoke, he could barely strain the words through. "Why... were you there, Sylvain?"

"Oh, me? I said something during the meeting that ticked Ingrid off- I can't even remember what it was now, but you know me, it probably wasn't very sensitive. It kinda broke out into an argument, so I figured I'd leave and take the heat with me."

He was then silent for a long moment as they passed by Ashe's room. Ashe was sorely tempted to force himself out of Sylvain's hold and make a mad dash for it. The only thing that stopped him was the knowledge that he'd be no match for Sylvain if the other boy tried to stop him.

"...To be honest, that's only part of it." Ashe looked up at Sylvain through hooded eyes, but Sylvain's attention was on the path ahead. "Everyone's been worried about you, Ashe. When you left early... well, I think we were all hoping for an excuse to leave and check up on you. I'm just the one who got lucky."

'Lucky'. What a word to use. Ashe's hands curled into fists, his teeth worrying his lip as he fought back a sob. Despite doing all he could to pretend that everything was normal, he'd still managed to aggrieve his friends. Still made them waste their time worrying about _filth_. "I'm so sorry. For making everyone fret over me. I- I should've hid it better-"

" _Ashe_." Sylvain frowned at him and Ashe froze, panic seizing him as he waited for the strike across his face. Instead, however, Sylvain paused and then spoke again in a gentler tone. "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you, just... don't talk like that, okay? Don't apologise for anything that asshole was responsible for."

"But-"

Sylvain shook his head. "If anything, I should be the one apologising." They'd passed the greenhouse and were now moving up the steps to the second floor dormitories. With Sylvain's face hidden in the shadows of the narrow staircase, Ashe could only listen to the grief in his voice. "I knew something was wrong- we've all known, for _weeks_. But none of us did anything. None of us thought we could. I should've known better... should've trusted what my gut was telling me."

"Sylvain, no! You can't take any of the blame." Now Ashe was the one shaking his head, anger and panic and a whole cocktail of other emotions swirling inside him. "Not after you stopped him. I... I can't possibly repay you for that."

 _Not that he should've been stopped._ Ashe winced at how easily the thought wormed its way into his head.

"So, then," Sylvain climbed the last step and brought them onto the landing, looking down at Ashe with a strained smile, "We're agreed that neither of us are to blame? I'll hold to that if you will."

Ashe didn't have the energy to smile in turn, not even a fake one. Instead he fell silent as Sylvain took them down the corridor. There was a cat splayed across the floor, but otherwise there was no-one to interrupt them. But everyone would be in their rooms, and Ashe was struck with a sudden pang of anxiety as he imagined any of the doors opening. Bad enough for Sylvain and the staff to have seen him like this, but someone like Claude or Edelgard? The thought made him ill.

It didn't come to pass, however, and they reached Sylvain's room without incident. He finagled the handle with his elbow and then pushed the door open with his back, so skilfully that Ashe had to assume this wasn't the first time Sylvain had carried someone to his room. If he were in a better state of mind, Ashe would've blushed.

The room itself was surprisingly well-kept, a ramshackle pile of books being the only notable mess. Sylvain lowered Ashe gently onto the bed and then staggered back into his chair, catching his breath after the long walk. Ashe bit back another apology, knowing Sylvain wouldn't hear it. He could feel his own exhaustion catch up with him, the desire to sleep growing stronger with each second he lay across the mattress. The temptation to slip into unconsciousness and forget about everything until the morning was a strong one.

But also, Ashe knew, an impossible one. The second he fell asleep, he knew he would fall victim to nightmares stronger than ever before.

"Alright," Sylvain huffed, getting back to his feet, "that's the easy part done."

He went about his room with renewed vigour. First he set up a kettle on the bedside stand, using magic to spark a fire under the iron. Next he procured a mortar and pestle, and a well-worn bag from out which came a bundle of herbs that Ashe didn't recognise. Sylvain ground them down as the water came to a boil, and before long he was tipping the crushed herbs into a teacup and following it up with the boiling water.

"Drink that," he ordered, leaving the cup by the bedside for Ashe. "There's diseases and infections that can spread during sex. That little mixture there will deal with most of them before they're even a problem."

Ashe didn't have to ask how Sylvain knew that, or why he had such herbs on hand.

"I need to get some water." Sylvain continued, hoisting an empty wooden tub into his arms. "It's only a few doors down, and it won't take long. And I'll leave the washroom's door open too, so you can holler me back if you need to."

He was being so accommodating. Ashe didn't have the heart to tell Sylvain that he couldn't yell if something went wrong; that he'd grown so used to silencing himself that his voice shrivelled up when he was in danger. He couldn't tell Sylvain either that the idea of being alone made his palms sweat and his heart flutter. Not when Sylvain was being so _nice_ , so caring, so unlike the carefree ladykiller that he presented as most of the time.

So Ashe just nodded quietly, and Sylvain left the room.

It was just for a few minutes. Ashe could handle that.

He sat up and took the cup into his hands, letting the warm steam roll over his face and ignoring how his grip made the porcelain clatter against its saucer. It was hot and bitter when he took a sip, and the herbal sediment left a grainy residue on his tongue. Ashe was only able to drain it halfway before he put the cup back on the table, his hand shaking so badly that he'd drop it otherwise.

Without Sylvain's voice to fill the empty air, Ashe could no longer avoid the reality of what had happened. He was alone with his thoughts and with his body. His aching, bruised, disgusting, _foul_ -

Ashe clapped a hand over his mouth as he felt the tea come back up his throat. It was bitter and acidic and made his eyes water as he retched violently. His other arm clutched his stomach, his body curled into itself, but still he couldn't stop it from spasming. _Get it out_ his body begged, _get it all out_ , the tea in his stomach, the flesh thrusting deep into him, the hands bruising his waist and the vulgar panting in his ear, _dog, cockslut, back-stabbing whore..._

Red swam in his vision and Ashe could hear another voice, this one soft where the other was harsh. "You're okay Ashe. You're safe. I'm here. Take a breath now, in through your nose, like me..."

He heard the voice inhale and he did the same, and retched again at the stench of blood. But then he breathed out, and in again, and the smell wasn't so bad this time, and ever-so-slowly he could feel his sickness tide gently back. In and out, in and out, and slowly, slowly, the tea settled back in his stomach, and Ashe settled back into reality. He wasn't outside the chapel. He wasn't shoved against the ground. He was in Sylvain's room, and Sylvain was there, knelt on the ground and looking up at Ashe with such gentle understanding in his eyes. 

"You're doing great." he said. "Keep breathing now, in and out..."

Slowly, Ashe brought his hand down from his mouth, and he took in a halting breath between his lips. Sylvain nodded encouragingly and Ashe continued to breathe, the fog soon clearing from his mind completely. He was okay. He was safe.

"Thank you." he croaked.

Sylvain crooked a smile, one that didn't reach his eyes. "Anytime." 

Now that he could focus, Ashe noticed the tub of water that Sylvain had brought into the room. Steam coiled lazily from it, and a splash of water dampened the carpet from where Sylvain had hastily dropped it to the floor. Ashe felt the need to apologise, for the carpet and for alarming Sylvain and really, just, for everything, but Sylvain spoke up first. "I'm gonna get you off the bed for a second, just so I can put this towel down, alright?"

There were two of them flung over Sylvain's shoulders. He tugged off the larger of the two with one hand while the other helped steady Ashe as he stood up, his legs threatening to buckle under the ache and exhaustion. Sylvain was quick to spread the towel over his covers so that Ashe could rest again.

Once everything was set up, Sylvain hesitated. "Look, uh... I know the _last_ thing you want to do right now is strip, but there's no other way to take care of your injuries. And if we don't do that, then you're just going to get worse until you end up in the infirmary and Professor Manuela's the one stripping you instead. It needs to happen either way, so... best to get it over with now, right?"

Everything he said was true, but that didn't make it any easier to swallow. Ashe clutched himself instinctively, his shiver returning in full force. What was he even afraid of? Was he expecting Sylvain to take advantage of him? Even with all the rumours of his philandering, to think so lowly of someone Ashe called a _friend_...

"Don't... don't bother." Ashe hissed, and like a broken dam he was spilling out words too quickly to stop. "Please, don't, I'm awful, I'm _awful_ , you don't need to put up with me, I'll just- I'll just leave now and-"

"Ashe." Sylvain chided. He'd dunked the other towel in the tub and was now wringing the extra water out. "I don't know how your mind twisted my words, but don't listen to it, alright? You're not a bad person, and I want to take care of you."

"But I am! I've done terrible things and now- now I'm thinking them too, about you, even though all you've done is hel _umph!_ "

Sylvain had pressed the wet towel against Ashe's face, muffling him as his blood and tears were finally wiped away. "Hey, Ashe... if the tables were turned, and you were the one who found me outside the chapel like that, would you have helped out?"

The question blindsided Ashe. He blinked gormlessly until Sylvain moved the towel over to his cheek. "Of- of course I would!"

"Even knowing I'm a- how'd they put it- heartless degenerate who uses and abuses woman?"

"You shouldn't say such terrible things about yourself." Sylvain cocked a brow at him and Ashe realised the irony of his words. "Oh, um, well, but I'm-"

"Putting aside that you're one of the nicest people I know, and I don't believe for a second that you've ever done anything terrible in your life-" Sylvain dunked the towel back in the tub, staining the water a light red, "Even the worst scum of the earth don't deserve to be put through something that awful. And it's our job as knights to provide help when it's needed- isn't that right?"

Sylvain smirked at him and Ashe flushed, remembering their previous conversation on the matter. "I... I suppose you have a point. But still-"

"Enough with the 'but's! You're worse than His Highness sometimes, y'know?" Sylvain shuffled up the bed so that they were only feet apart. His teasing grin faded. "The bruising on your face should heal fine on its own, but I'm gonna have to take a look at that neck."

Ashe's hand rose to it without thinking. It hadn't suffered a lot that night, but the bruising from his previous meeting with Hallam was probably as ugly as ever. He felt his throat bob as he swallowed thickly. "That... that's fine. Go ahead."

Part of him still wanted Sylvain to leave him be, but he didn't have the energy to argue further. Not just that, but Sylvain's argument had flummoxed him. If anyone else had been in his position, then they'd deserve help. Ashe knew that with certainty.

But... he didn't. He didn't deserve this. There was no _reason_ for Ashe to think that- in fact, it only became more nonsensical the more he tried to think rationally about it- but he still couldn't accept it as a lie. It was just... different for him, somehow.

He also knew that, maybe, explaining it to Sylvain would help him untangle it, but his throat constricted as Sylvain's hands came to rest over it. His touch was exceedingly gentle, barely touching the skin at all, his brows knitted together in concentration and worry.

"It's okay." Ashe whispered without thinking. "He didn't use his hands."

It'd been meant as a reassurance, but Ashe couldn't really be surprised when Sylvain's face screwed up in disgust. "That sick-" He grimaced and forced himself to take a deep breath. One hand removed itself from Ashe's neck to instead pick up a book that'd been resting on the bedside table. "I'll heal it up as best I can. It'll probably start hurting again though, so stop me if it gets to be too much."

He flicked the tome open and then held it like that with his hand, reciting the incantation with uncharacteristic focus. Light began to emit from his other hand; Ashe could feel its warmth against his skin. Sylvain started to massage his neck gently, and as he did so Ashe could feel the warmth seep down into his being, soothing the burst capillaries and strained muscles. It started to sting once Sylvain moved to the other side, but in a good way- like a muscle would after a healthy workout.

Compared to the ache that'd been plaguing Ashe the entire night, it barely hurt at all.

"Everything alright?" Sylvain asked, eyes still on the tome.

Ashe hummed.

Once Sylvain was finished, Ashe's neck felt tingly and sore. He didn't imagine that it looked much better, but hopefully now the bruising would clear up faster. "I need to go over the rest of you now." Sylvain looked him in the eye with that seriousness that was so unlike him. "You okay?"

He was better, at least. That had probably been Sylvain's plan all along, ease him into having to strip. But it had worked, somewhat: Ashe's stomach still tightened with panic, and his hands felt as heavy and clumsy as lead, but he was able to use them to pry open his jacket, as painstakingly slow as a doddering elder.

Sylvain didn't rush him. He even had the good sense to turn away as Ashe shrugged off the material. He moved on to his undershirt next, tugging the fabric slowly and stiffly over his head. He could've stopped there, with his bruised chest on display, but Ashe wasn't sure he'd have the confidence to go the full way if he didn't do it now.

"Um, Sylvain?"

"What's up?"

"Could, um..." He hesitated as his fingers slid under the hem of his pants. "If it isn't too much, could you... we... talk? Just, about anything. W-When it's quiet, I..."

"...Don't worry, I get it." Sylvain rubbed his neck, scanning the ceiling as Ashe undressed further. "Well, uh... actually, y'know, even without white magic, I'm pretty good with ointments and stuff. Kinda have to be when I've got Felix as a friend... and Dimitri... and Ingrid too, now that I think about it. Eesh, they're all kinda brutes in their own way."

Ashe undid his boots and slid them off alongside his lower garments, leaving him in just his underwear. He paused again as he thumbed their hem, his breath stuttering. "Well, His Highness doesn't _mean_ to be, he just, uh, forgets sometimes that he can break a spear in half as easily as I could a toothpick. He'll try and tap you with his lance and end up sending you to the infirmary..."

"I'm ready." Ashe breathed. He really wasn't, but he was naked, and staying that way any longer wasn't going to make it better. He stared intently at the bedsheet as Sylvain turned back to him; he heard the hiss as the redhead took in all the dark colourings that bloomed across his pale skin. Ashe gnawed at his lip as he was overwhelmed with disgust.

"...But, uh, Felix. You know Felix. Any excuse he can to mar this pretty face of mine." Sylvain hovered his hand over the biggest bruise on Ashe's chest- a nasty purple-black footprint- gauging Ashe's reaction. He felt sick at the promise of contact, fear clogging his throat, but he kept his mouth shut and forced himself to stay still as Sylvain slowly lowered his hand until it warmed Ashe's skin. It was a gentle touch. It didn't hurt. Ashe could do this.

Sylvain paused in his speech to recite the spell again, and soon his hand was aglow in gentle light. He moved it softly in a circle, the magic once again seeping down into the aching muscles and easing the pains that it found there. It was almost therapeutic, and yet still Ashe struggled to remain in the room, and not cast himself back to the last time he'd been touched so intimately. If 'intimate' was even the right word for the touch that had sullied him so thoroughly.

"Now Ingrid... sometimes I don't think she's aware of her own strength. And then sometimes she slaps me so hard that it nearly knocks me to the ground, and I know that she meant every bit of energy she put into it." Once the worst of the bruising had been covered, Sylvain retrieved the wet towel and dabbed it on the bloody scrapes across Ashe's knees. "Honestly, who needs enemies when your friends are always _this_ close to knocking you senseless?"

He chuckled, but Ashe didn't join in. Focusing on Sylvain's words was already enough of an effort without thinking of how to respond to them. Sylvain didn't seem to mind, however, as he wiped up the blood and then smoothed over the skin with his glowing palm. "That's most of it done, I think. The most that I can manage, anyway. Just one thing left to do..."

Though he tried to be casual about it, both of them were tense as their attention turned to Ashe's genital region. Up until now, Ashe had been able to lay back and pretend that he wasn't _entirely_ naked, that he still bore some protection as Sylvain cleaned up his chest and legs. But he couldn't imagine that anymore, and he choked back a whimper as he was suddenly overwhelmed with his own vulnerability.

"Remember, you can stop me anytime you want." Sylvain said. Ashe wanted to believe him, he knew he _could_ , but all of his irrational fears were crawling out of their crevices and polluting the calm that had settled over the duo. It was taking all of his power to remember that he was in Sylvain's room, with Sylvain, and he was safe, and he was not being hurt, and everything was fine and was going to be fine...

"Ashe?" Sylvain's voice had grown distant, echoey. "I don't think I'll need to, uhm, go inside. And I'll be as fast as possible, I promise. You've got nothing to worry about."

 _Nothing to worry about._ Ashe repeated the line like a mantra. _Nothing to worry about._ "Jus- just do it." He choked out. "Get it over with, please."

Sylvain nodded and took position between Ashe's legs. Ashe couldn't see what he was doing- didn't _want_ to see- and couldn't bite back his fright as he felt something warm press against his backside. "You're okay Ashe." Sylvain soothed. "You're with me. You're safe."

"I'm okay, I'm safe, I'm okay..." He felt a finger brush against his hole and he remembered how Hallam had shoved himself in without hesitation, how much the flesh had burned when those fingers scissored apart and how little it had mattered that he'd sobbed and begged for mercy-

"You're okay Ashe." Sylvain repeated, the worry all too evident in his voice. "We're nearly done."

The warmth was creeping in again but it wasn't nice, it wasn't healing, it was sharp and painful and it thrust in and out without mercy. Ashe cried as he was scraped across the ground, every inch of his being wishing for nothing but death, but all that came was more pain and it hurt so badly, it _hurt-_

"Ashe!" Something brushed against his forearm and he swatted it away, scrambling away until he hit a dark corner and curled himself into it. Maybe if he kept tightening and tightening then he'd become one with the darkness and disappear entirely. Tighter and tighter, like the belt around his throat, crushing his neck until there was nothing of him left but a dirty corpse-

"C'mon Ashe, stay with me." There was a flame in the darkness that Ashe recognised but he shied away from it, scared of its heat. "You're completely safe. No-one's going to hurt you. I promise."

The flame came closer and, actually, the heat wasn't so bad. It didn't flare at his skin, but rather caressed it gently, a touch undeserving of a vile monster like him-

_No, he wasn't, it wasn't his fault, he didn't deserve this..._

"Do you hear me Ashe? I _promise_."

There was something warm and soft floating in front of the flame. Ashe uncurled his hand slowly, reached out to it with hesitation. It was another hand, and it clasped gently around his own. He could see now that it was attached to an arm, which was attached to a body, and the flame wasn't a flame at all, but a choppy wave of red hair.

"There we go." Sylvain tugged gently, and slowly Ashe unfurled from the corner of the bed that he'd curled up in. "See? Nothing here to hurt you."

Ashe forced himself to breathe, and only realised then that fresh tears were rolling down his cheeks. He wiped at them ashamedly. "I.. freaked out, didn't I? I'm sorry..."

"Don't be. You did great." Sylvain's thumb rubbed a circle into Ashe's palm. Worry creased the corners of his amber eyes. Ashe felt sick and disheartened, but- he realised with a soft pang- he didn't feel the isolation that had been crushing him just seconds earlier. He had a friend. He had many friends, and they wanted to help, and Ashe deserves that.

"Thank you, Sylvain." he choked out. "Th... thank you so much."

"Don't mention it." Sylvain smiled, and unlike many of his others, it was genuine. "Let's get you into some nightclothes now, alright? After all that, you've earned one hell of a rest."


	10. Chapter 10

As he'd expected, sleep did not come easily for Ashe. In fact, it barely came at all. Even after he'd been tucked into Sylvain's bed, cover up to his chin and freshly adorned in borrowed nightclothes ("They'll be a bit long at the sleeves and legs, but you can roll them up."), a good hour passed with Ashe laying there awake, eyes closed but too scared of what would await him when he lost consciousness.

Sylvain had snuffed out the candle shortly after tucking Ashe in, yet had remained in the dark room. Ashe knew he was the reason that Sylvain stayed; that Sylvain wasn't going to leave him even if it meant whiling away his time in the silent darkness. It made Ashe feel terrible, but the thought of being alone scared him too much to speak up about it.

He was hesitant to think too long about Sylvain- to really dig down and consider _why_ Sylvain was able to handle this situation so naturally. After how accommodating he had been, it was the least Ashe could do to not pry into his personal life, and any less-than-savoury parts that may exist within. The problem was that there wasn't much else that his mind would stick to without dredging itself back to the events of the night. It was like a scab, something he shouldn't poke and prod but still his fingers would meander back to it the second he stopped paying attention.

It was because of that restless cycle that Ashe was still awake when his classmates returned to the dorm. His heart fluttered as he recognised Dimitri's brisk timbre, followed by the cold rumble of Felix's voice. Then he heard the rustle of fabric as Sylvain stood up from his desk, and Ashe clutched the covers close as the redhead walked over and creaked the door open. A small shaft of light cast the dark room into a murky grey as Sylvain slipped out. Ashe focused on his breathing. Sylvain was still just outside- no reason for fear to fester in his stomach.

"Your Highness!" Sylvain's manufactured nonchalance was unmistakable as he greeted the prince. "The rest of the meeting go well?"

"You'd know if you'd been there." said Felix.

"I don't want to hear that from the guy who skips our combat lectures half the time-"

"Both of you, please. It went fine, Sylvain. You shall be briefed in the morning, after the Professor has discussed the matter with Lady Rhea."

"Ohh, are we to join them? This whole mess would be worth it if it gives me the chance to witness the Archbishop's beauty up close."

"Disgusting." Ashe heard the sound of footsteps, and Felix's voice grew fainter. "I'm going to bed. Don't disturb me."

The other two didn't speak again until Felix's door slammed shut. When they did, Ashe's breath caught in his throat. "Did you meet with Ashe?"

"...Yeah, you could say-" Sylvain paused, and then sighed. "No, I shouldn't sugarcoat it."

"Sylvain?"

Oh Goddess, Sylvain was going to tell him, His Highness was going to _know_. Ashe would rather die than have that happen. He had yanked himself up and was halfway out of the bed, covers contorted around his body, when Sylvain continued. "I can't tell you all about what happened. I shouldn't, anyway. That's up to Ashe."

Ashe paused, heart pounding against his chest.

"But.. I found him outside the chapel. He was in pretty bad shape. I had to carry him back here."

"What? What do you mean 'bad shape', is he alright?"

"He'll be fine. He should be sleeping right now." Ashe could almost feel Sylvain's eyes turn back to the room, and he shrunk back onto the bed in embarrassment. "You remember a few weeks back, when he asked you guys about the Edevanes?"

"I do, but what does that-" Dimitri halted. When he spoke again, the dark rumble in his voice sent a shiver down Ashe's spine. "You're not telling me it was Hallam who hurt him?"

"Broke the dastard's arm, I wouldn't mistake him for anyone else."

"You broke-?! Sylvain, you must tell me what happened."

"I told you, that's up to Ashe."

"If it's of such severity that you can't even tell _me_ the details, then surely we should be reporting it to Lady Rhea as soon as possible?"

"You're not wrong, but... I can't leave him alone. Would you be able to..?"

Ashe had heard enough. He rolled to face the wall and pulled the pillow over his ears, pressing the fabric against his head until it hurt. His worst fear was being realised- everyone was going to hear about what happened. He wouldn't be able to leave the room without having everyone's eyes on him. Just the thought of it made his skin crawl.

And yet, at the same time, he couldn't help but feel relief that the worst of his torment was finally over. The emotions were all mixed up within him, the good and the bad flowing together until Ashe didn't know _what_ he was feeling anymore. He sighed into the pillow. Right now he was aching and confused, tomorrow he'd face an all-new onslaught, and the sleep in-between... Ashe knew it wouldn't be peaceful, and yet his body craved rest.

In the end, his mind would be troubled whether he slept or not. Offering his tired muscles some respite was the very least he could do for himself. It was that reasoning that finally convinced him to seek out sleep, the pillow unfurling around his head as he relaxed his hands and instead focused on his breathing: one in, one out. One in, one out. One in... one...

* * *

When next Ashe awoke it was to pitch darkness again. He didn't remember falling asleep, nor did he remember any dreams or nightmares he may have experienced- the best outcome, in all honesty. Still, his body felt heavy and his head was like cotton, as if he hadn't actually rested much at all. Perhaps he'd been fitful as he slept?

He was alone in the room- he didn't know how he knew that, he just knew that Sylvain wasn't with him. Ashe pulled his body out from under the covers and brought his feet down to the floor. There was some other, unexplainably heavy feeling that clung to him like a fog. It made him feel sluggish as he forced himself to stand up, his body swaying as he fought back dizziness.

He tried to take a step, but his feet were locked in place. He tried again, his frustration growing with each failed attempt. Ashe didn't know how many times he tried to move before he thought to consider why he couldn't.

The answer was obvious: it was the hands that had reached out from under the bed, trapping his ankles in a vice grip.

The hands yanked back and Ashe tumbled to the floor. He had barely slammed against the wood before he was being dragged under the bed with inhuman strength, more hands creeping out from the darkness to wrap around his legs and hips. Ashe was sure that he struggled, sure that he screamed, and yet he heard and felt nothing, not until the hands started to paw at his naked skin. Wait, but his clothes, where were-

He looked to the gap under the bed and felt a sick horror envelop him as eyes stared back. Only Sylvain's at first, but then there was Dimitri, and Ingrid, and soon all of his friends were crowded around, observing apathetically as Ashe was groped, as his limbs were grabbed and pulled apart as far as they would go, letting all of his friends see as the hands scoured his flesh and forced themselves inside him.

_Don't look._ Ashe screamed. _Please, please, I'm begging, don't-!_ But he couldn't hear himself at all, and neither could they.

_Is this what you're really like?_ said Ingrid, her lips unmoving. _Disgusting._

_It makes me sick to think that you ever associated with us._ said Dimitri.

_Get out of my sight,_ Felix hissed, _before I cleave you in half._

_It'd be the least he deserves._ Sylvain added with a laugh.

Ashe tried to speak again but fingers were rammed down his throat, so deep that he couldn't breath. He writhed and gagged but he couldn't escape.

_Wouldn't it be better for us all if you surrendered?_ Dedue asked.

_Please, Ashe, give up already._ said Mercedes. _Spare us from this unholy performance._

_It's the very least you could do, don't you think?_ Annette said.

The heaviness weighed down upon Ashe even more, and as it did he felt his awareness grow fuzzy. His body cried out for air, but he was too weak to fight any longer. He grew limp, and the hands invaded further, until he no longer knew where they stopped and he began.

He couldn't tell his friends _I'm sorry,_ but the thought permeated every inch of Ashe as his eyes rolled into his head, and his lungs stopped crying for release, and he finally, finally-

-woke up, for real this time.

Ashe rolled away from the pillow and suddenly he could breathe again. He took in deep, gasping breaths, his body shivering and wracked with sweat. He clutched at his chest and nearly weeped with relief when he found fabric there. He was still tucked in bed. Very much safe, and very much alive.

He grabbed the cover and curled up within it, savouring its warmth as he slowly orientated himself back into reality. Though the details of the nightmare were already fading, he could never forget the disgust of his friends' words. The hatred that had festered in their eyes.

_They'd never say that. They'd never. And none of it was true. Not a single word._

Though the words felt hollow, Ashe forced himself to repeat them until his breathing returned to normal.

Soft light shone through the windows, the sky outside a weak blue. The deep brown wood of the room felt warm and welcoming in the daytime. Ashe looked up and saw that Sylvain was with him, deep asleep in the room's only chair. His presence alone made Ashe feel a little safer.

He knew it couldn't last, but for now, Ashe took solace in this one perfect moment of quiet. Not quite night, not quite morning: a space in-between where Ashe, for the first time in a long while, could find something close to peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Planned to have a nice section with Dimitri, but I wrote too much and it ended up getting shafted to the next chapter. Sorry Ashe.


	11. Chapter 11

When Ashe had been a small boy, he had sometimes crept into Lonato's room in the dead of night, some odd noise or the other keeping him from sleeping. His image of the lord had always been that of a strict man, but, when Lonato's mind was free to rest, that hardened persona was stripped away, revealing the gentle features of the father who had taken in a homeless orphan and his siblings without a second thought. From thenceforth, Ashe had always assumed that a person's sleeping face unveiled the peacefulness that they couldn't otherwise enjoy in their everyday life.

Not so with Sylvain. In fact, it was the opposite; his carefree mask slipped away when he rested, exposing the tired creases of his eyes, the pinch of his brow, and his lips pressed tight into a frown. Were it not for how stilly and soundly he slept, Ashe would've thought he was in the throes of a nightmare. But even though it wasn't a peaceful expression, it nevertheless showed a more honest side of Sylvain, just like with Lonato so many years ago.

Ashe didn't know how long he sat on the edge of the bed, watching Sylvain while absorbed in his own thoughts, but soon the blue of the sky grew more vivid, and the first notes of birdsong fluttered in through the window. The other students would be waking up soon. Ashe clutched the mattress and slowly put pressure on his feet. The bruises across his body ached in protest, but it wasn't anything he couldn't handle.

The pain between his legs, however... it wasn't unbearable, but just remembering what had happened caused him to break out in a cold sweat. He hated how hollow it made him feel, the constant empty throb a reminder that his body had been distorted against his will. His pain had been used and abused for someone else's pleasure. Ashe had thought he'd seen the worst of humanity, scrounging by in Fódlan's seedy back alleys, but never had he been brought down to these depths before.

It was pathetic to think of now, but Ashe had always imagined his first time would be with someone he loved: that he would live a gallant life as a hero and then retreat from the public eye to enjoy a happily-ever-after with his lover and their children. He knew it was naive to believe in such a fantasy, but even so...

Even so, he had never expected the reality of it to crush him so cruelly.

He drew in a shaky breath and wiped his eyes- how silly it would be for him to cry first thing in the morning. He forced himself up onto his feet, letting the pains of his body drown out his sadness. Though he'd prepared for it, Ashe still nearly toppled over, his legs as shaky as a newborn foal. His knees bowed inwards and his arms outstretched as he desperately fought for balance.

It was a silly sight, to be sure. If Sylvain has awoken then, he'd probably have laughed and then urged Ashe back into bed. But no, Ashe couldn't have that. He'd already taken up so much of Sylvain's time and patience; seeing now how exhausted he looked while he slept, Ashe couldn't in good conscience cause him any more stress. He would return to his own room, and then... he didn't know. He'd figure it out when he got there.

Slowly his legs grew re-accustomed to standing, and Ashe was able to stumble his way over to the door. A mirror was hung up there- of course Sylvain would've sought one out for his room- and though Ashe tried his best to avoid it, his gaze skittered across for a split second as he reached for the handle. Seeing himself reflected there made Ashe feel sick- the large, fresh bruise on his cheek, the faded green-yellow markings around his neck, the deep bags under his watery eyes, the way Sylvain's shirt hung off his skinny frame and made him look twelve years old. Try as he might to avoid any hateful thoughts about himself, Ashe couldn't think of a more apt descriptor than 'pathetic'.

He thought about redressing into his own clothes, but he didn't know where Sylvain had put them. And they probably hadn't been washed since... Ashe shivered, and continued out the room in Sylvain's nightclothes. 

The corridor seemed to stretch out even more than it had last night. Ashe couldn't expect to make it to the other end without coming across anyone, but still he tried, one hand on the hall to keep him steady, the wooden floor warm against his bare feet. He should've looked around for his shoes at least, but it was too late to turn back. The monastery was well-kept, he shouldn't have to worry too much about errant stones in the yard or other-

"Ashe!"

He nearly toppled over.

His Highness' voice was unmistakable. Ashe had barely managed to get past Felix's room before Dimitri had emerged from his. Though he wasn't dressed in his usual armour, Dimitri's firm stature was no less striking in his nightclothes. His eyes, too, were bright with an inner strength that Ashe couldn't hope to measure up to.

"Y-Your Highness!" he stuttered out, more aware than ever of how pitiful he looked. He ducked his head down, avoiding the prince's gaze while also hiding his ugly bruises as best he could. 

But not entirely. He heard Dimitri's breath hitch as he hurried over to Ashe, saw how his hand reflexively clenched into a fist. His Highness shouldn't have to see him like this. Ashe wanted to run, but he could barely find the strength to walk. "Sylvain informed me of what happened, or some of it at least, I... Are you sure you should be walking around? I'm certain you're in need of some rest..."

"Ah, no, please don't worry. I'm f- I'm fine." 

"Don't feel like you must say that on my account." Dimitri's hand reached out to his shoulder and it was all Ashe could do to not bat him away, or flinch from the touch, or think about the grime slithering up his body and tarnishing the prince's fair, unsullied skin... "Should you need my strength, or just my ear, both are yours to take freely."

Ashe could feel himself flush, but he shook his head vehemently. "I'm- I'm sorry, Your Highness, but you know I can't agree to that. Not with our positions being as they are."

"Ashe, I thought we agreed to work on that?" His tone was chiding, like that of a friend, but it was _wrong_ to hear it from the prince. Though they had agreed to bend to each other's points of view, Ashe wasn't capable yet of seeing Dimitri as a friend. At least, not a friend that he was on equal footing with.

"I'm truly sorry, again, but this isn't something I can bother you with."

Though he couldn't see Dimitri's face, Ashe knew that he was discontent. Trying to win against Dimitri's stubbornness was a fool's errand, so Ashe changed tracks, forcing a thin smile. "I-In any case, I was only hoping to get some fresh air. It's best in the early morning, don't you think?"

"I... suppose so, yes. I've often found it a calming experience myself, to take a walk before everyone else awakens."

And they could've continued off that thought until Dimitri came around and agreed to let Ashe wander off but Ashe had lied to the prince _again_ , and done it so naturally that it had taken a moment for his transgression to register. The tightrope beneath his feet wavered as Ashe drew ever closer to the mire that spat insults in his ear. _Liar. Thief. Criminal._

"You're starting to look rather pale. I really do think it would be best if you returned to bed-

_-and lay there to rot-_

"-at least until we hear word back from the professors... Ashe?"

"Wh- What? Sorry, I-" His legs shook. His hand clung to the wall, but the smooth stone offered him little purchase. He would've happily returned to Sylvain's room now, hid himself under the covers and pressed a pillow into his face until he'd blotted out the whole world, but he'd lost the power to walk.

Dimitri's hands were back on him, cradling his shoulders, and it was... nice, actually. His grip was gentle and warm. Ashe hadn't realised how cold he'd gotten, how much he shivered under the touch. "Don't worry." Dimitri said, suddenly sounding so much more solemn. "This will pass. Focus on the present. Root yourself in it."

Dimitri squeezed his shoulders, keeping Ashe pressed to the ground even as his body threatened to float away. He scraped his hand over the wall, searching out its rough textures. "I'm sorry," he breathed.

"Save your apologies for when they're needed." Ashe didn't exactly know what he meant by that but, as he tried to puzzle it out, he felt his surroundings grow less vague, his body less light. He took a breath and he could feel it in his chest, not just dancing enticingly before his lips.

"Better?" Ashe dipped his head and Dimitri chuckled, a laugh without mirth or ease. "I'm glad. To be honest, it's advice I find myself struggling to follow at times..."

Ashe knew, of course, that darkness lurked within Dimitri's past. And he would never be so brazen as to compare his own struggle to it, but... it was, perhaps, something of a relief to see how well the prince carried himself. Ashe could never dream to be as strong as him physically, and perhaps not even in composure, but even he could surely reach a level where his distasteful panic didn't surface at every little inconvenience.

He had to reach that point. He could never leave his room otherwise.

"Ack, there you are!" Adorned with an embellished frown, Sylvain hurried down the corridor towards the duo, his hair bedraggled and his clothes creased. Even when Ashe had been the one to call on him in the mornings, Sylvain had never exited his room in such a raggedy state. 

Before he could speak, Ashe found himself apologising again. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to worry you, I was just- I was walking before I could stop myself."

"Y'know, a lot of girls have crept out my room in the morning, but none of them have had an excuse like that."

Dimitri cleared his throat.

" _Sorry_ , Your Highness." Sylvain's usual smile didn't fit quite right with his messy appearance. "Anyway, it's not the worst thing that you're up and about. I was actually going to suggest you grab a bath before the rest wake up."

"A bath..." It only made sense. Though Sylvain had cleaned his blood last night, it could hardly be called a proper wash. It hadn't nearly been enough to clean all of the grime that Ashe could still feel crawling over his skin.

He regretted now that he'd let Dimitri touch him. His eyes wandered to the prince's hands, which were spotless and animated as he agreed with Sylvain. "We could stand watch for you. I know from experience that it's always best to have an extra person on hand if you're bathing while recovering."

Sylvain smirked. "Like that time you'd lost a pint of blood, the steam nearly made you faint, and Dedue had to carry you out?"

"Please, don't remind me..."

Sylvain laughed, but Ashe didn't share in his merriment. "You really don't have to do that, Your Highness. I'll be fine on my own."

"I don't _have_ to, but I would like to." Dimitri replied.

"But-"

"We're not leaving you alone Ashe." Though Sylvain's tone was teasing, and his hands were tucked behind his head in that playful way of his, Ashe could sense a deeper undercurrent in his words. "It'll be easier on all of us once you accept that."

Ashe flushed. There were, of course, the usual dark thoughts snapping at his ears, but there was also something warm buried deep beneath them. With great caution, he found himself digging down towards it. "F-fine, but I really can't trouble His Highness with such a task."

Dimitri sighed. "If you are so insistent. Then Sylvain will stay guard at the door, and I will discuss matters with him while very much _not_ doing the same."

"Y-Your Highness-!"

Ashe's blush grew deeper as Sylvain snickered into his hand. Even Dimitri couldn't stop the hint of a smile that quirked his lips. "Yes, Ashe?"

He had no energy left to protest further. Ashe sighed in defeat. "This devious side of yours isn't very becoming of a knight."

"There are many politicians out there who would disagree." Sylvain swept his arm out in the direction of the washroom. "C'mon now, before Mercedes takes up all the hot water."

"I've always found you to be the greater culprit of that."

"Your Highness, you wound me-!"

Ashe followed in their wake, an outsider to their banter, but also, maybe, a little closer to them than he'd be willing to let himself think.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies again for the delay. I thought this thing would be around 12 chapters, and now I must accept my hubris.


	12. Chapter 12

The water was searing when Ashe dipped his toe into it. He'd suspected as much from the steam rolling off, and continued lowering his foot until it was fully submerged and agonisingly hot. It almost felt like his skin was being shed by the heat, and that was why he slowly started to lower the rest of his body in too. If the water could peel his skin away, then maybe it could get down into all of the nasty nooks and crevasses and clear out the grime that had been festering in them.

There was a part of Ashe that knew he was being foolish, but he still didn't stop until he was submerged to his neck and on the verge of unconsciousness from the heat pounding away at his head. Faerghus citizens were built for the cold, not the other way around. Even the summer days at the monastery could be overwhelming- compared to those, this felt like taking a dip in Ailell's magma rivers. 

But Ashe knew that succumbing to his dizziness would only cause more trouble for everyone, and so he braved through it. Second by second he waited for the water to cool, watching his skin grow red and pimpled. He'd look like a plucked chicken at this rate. He almost chuckled at the thought.

That reminded him, breakfast would be served in the dining hall soon. Ashe couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten. Before the Rite of Rebirth? His stomach panged with hunger, but he doubted that he'd be able to keep any food down. More than that, he dreaded the thought of everyone waiting for him at the hall, whispering under their breath about the 'incident' at the chapel...

His stomach churned suddenly as a memory assaulted him; of chewed food festering in his mouth as Hallam reached under the dining table and pawed at his crotch. _Just speak up if you don't like it._ he'd sneered, knowing that Ashe wouldn't. That he'd rather have died than let any of the students know that he was being molested in front of them.

But if he _had_ spoken up then... it was far too late for regrets, yet still Ashe steeped in them as readily as he did the scorching water. All it would've taken was a few words and Ashe could've stopped everything that happened to him. If only he had. If only he wasn't a coward. If only, if only, if only-

Goddess, he wanted to scream. He didn't know how else to purge himself of all the thoughts and memories and hatred that clung to him like dozens of greedy hands. A brief remembrance of his nightmare made him shudder.

All of it, he wanted rid of all of it.

He welcomed the burn of his body as he lowered himself more, the water creeping up over his mouth, his nose, until every inch of him was submerged. He could feel the heat in every follicle of his hair as it floated around him like a silver halo. He barely stopped himself from inhaling as he felt the water sear the back of his nostrils. It was all so painful, and yet, Ashe had never felt more awake.

Once he could move his head without having it hurt, Ashe peeled back his lips and screamed. His ears vibrated from the sudden torrent of bubbles. He imagined that every one of them carried his voice up to the surface where it reverberated through the washroom and out into the halls. It didn't, of course- he knew Sylvain would come hurtling in if it did- but it brought him some small, strange comfort to imagine that his frustration could be heard.

Ashe continued to scream until his chest burned as much as his body, and no more bubbles slipped past his lips, and even then he continued until his head felt light and water rushed down his throat. He flailed up to the surface, spattering water everywhere as he leaned out of the bathtub and choked. His throat hurt and for a second he wasn't sure where he was- in the washroom, choking on water, or in his room, being choked by leather.

His head pounded. No, not just his head- someone was pounding on the door. He half-expected Dedue's voice, and was left off-balance by Sylvain calling out instead. "Everything alright in there?"

Ashe took a heaving breath between his coughs. He wanted to reply but trying to form the words just agitated his throat more. He forced himself to calm down, to remember where he was. Just like Dimitri had said. Deep breaths in and out. Just like Sylvain had said.

"'m okay!" he managed eventually. His arms came to rest on the tub's edge and his head flopped down on top of them. "Sorry, I'm fine."

What had he been thinking? Nearly drowning himself like that. He was lucky that neither of the boys outside had entered, or he wouldn't have heard the end of it. Even worse, they might have thought he had done it deliberately.

Maybe he had. Not out of a desire to die, exactly, but- Ashe pressed his forehead against his arms. He didn't know what to think anymore.

"Don't go getting yourself hurt, alright?" Sylvain called, almost as if reading Ashe's thoughts. He couldn't help but wonder if the statement was more pointed than Sylvain's casual tone would imply. It'd be far from the first time that the redhead hid his intentions behind a careless veneer.

Still, with all that said, Ashe couldn't deny that he felt a little better. The water had cooled down enough to be bearable, and he felt so much more refreshed now that his face was wet. But even more than that, he felt a little lighter now that he'd emptied his lungs. Letting out his turmoil like that had been more uplifting than he'd expected... even if he'd taken it a little far.

Ashe almost smiled as he cradled his head in his arms, slowly losing track of time as the water continued to cool.

* * *

Only Sylvain was waiting for Ashe when he exited the washroom. He was redressed in clothes that Dimitri had fetched from Ashe's room (while Ashe was none the wiser of course, otherwise he would've protested the prince doing favours for him) with a towel curled around his shoulders to catch the water from his damp hair. He couldn't lie- the air felt pretty great on his freshly washed skin.

"His Highness stayed as long as he could, but he had to leave for lunch." Sylvain reported. "Dedue came over and wouldn't stop nagging until he went to get something to eat."

"W-wait, lunch?" Ashe's step faltered. "I was bathing for that long?"

"I wasn't about to stop you from enjoying a long soak."

"But you were there for all that time. You haven't eaten at all?!"

Sylvain went to clap him on his shoulder, but his hand spasmed mid-air and he pulled it away. Ashe knew he was being considerate, but still he felt some of that newfound cleanliness shed away. "Relax, Mercedes said she'd swing by with some food for us. Isn't that incredible? Room service from a girl like that..."

Ashe didn't realise he'd pulled a face until Sylvain laughed at it. "As pious as ever, huh?"

"I wouldn't describe it that way..."

"Hey, don't worry, it's a good thing!" Sylvain nodded, looking somewhere down the corridor. "It's good. You seem a little more like yourself."

He didn't know how to feel about that. He was eager to return to normalcy, but he couldn't say he felt anywhere close to it. _It's barely been a day._ Ashe reminded himself as he followed Sylvain back to his room, the air now quiet between them.

Sylvain settled himself back in the chair and Ashe, with nowhere else to sit, returned to the bed. A hairbrush was tossed onto the cover next to him. "How are the injuries?" Sylvain asked.

"Better, I think." Ashe shrugged, dabbing at his hair with the towel. "It... it all aches, still, but it's nothing I can't handle."

"I can heal you up again if you want." Sylvain must've seen the way that Ashe's body tensed, as he clarified "Not anywhere you'd have to strip for, not unless it was serious. Just no point putting yourself through that pain if you don't need to."

He had a point of course, but... maybe Ashe still felt exposed after the bath. Maybe he didn't want to risk flying into a panic when he was just starting to feel something close to relaxation. Or maybe he was just as stubborn as a cantankerous cart horse. "Thank you, Sylvain, but I think I'm fine for now."

Sylvain didn't push the matter, thank goodness. Instead he dove into small talk as Ashe dried and tidied his hair; the minutiae of casting white magic, childhood memories with Dimitri, an odd fish he'd spotted in the pond... Ashe was a little surprised to find that, if he kept off the topic of women, Sylvain had a lot of interesting observations to share. The longer that Ashe spent with him, the more he became aware that he hadn't really known Sylvain before.

Venturing down this untapped side of his friend was almost enough to make Ashe forget about everything that had landed them there in the first place.

"And the kicker? When I told the professor about this freaky giant fish I saw, all they said was 'I believe I caught one like that before.' It's like they live in a completely different world some-"

A single knock on the door interrupted Sylvain. "Are you guys in there?" said a familiar, chipper voice. "Open up please, our hands are full!"

Before he complied, Sylvain looked to Ashe for permission. Which was absurd since it was Sylvain's room, but Ashe had barely thought that before he felt anxiety suddenly swell in him. There was no good reason for it- he knew who was behind the door, and he trusted them, and he felt safe here- but the anxiety was there all the same. Like some part of his brain had gone haywire and flew into a panic anytime something unexpected happened.

Would that be something that would eventually go back to normal? Not if he indulged it. Ashe swallowed, and then nodded.

Sylvain had barely creaked the door open before Annette was barrelling inside, Mercedes following in a more controlled fashion. Both of them carried trays that were stacked high with food, enough that even Ingrid would hesitate before tackling it. Whitefish sauté, glistening pheasant roast, onion soup and pasta salad, lightly dusted sweet buns and freshly baked tart... Ashe blushed as the heavenly scent of it all made his stomach thunder.

"Surprise!" Annette yelled, a weird strain to her voice that drew Ashe's attention to her and made him realise that there was a dark stain on her uniform and one of her pigtails was askew. "Mercy and I wanted to make lunch for you, but somehow the ingredients got messed up and it made the pot boil over and the kitchen was just a _whole_ mess-"

"The head cook wasn't too pleased with us." Mercy said, looking more amused than ashamed.

"She wouldn't let us back in so Dedue had to take over, and then Ingrid showed up and was all 'This isn't nearly enough!' so she got us all doing ingredient runs and- uh, well... ta-da!"

The food was put down next to Ashe before he'd even processed all of Annette's spiel. Mercedes offered her tray to Sylvain, who took it with half-lidded eyes and some sort of teasing comment that Ashe was too dazed to register.

"You don't have to eat all of it." Annette was quick to follow with, smiling despite the blatant worry in her eyes. "I don't think you could even if you wanted to, haha. But you should try and get a little food in your tummy! Nothing'll make you feel worse than an empty stomach."

"If it's too heavy for you then I can bake some pastries instead." Mercedes added. Whereas Annette could barely stand still, Mercedes was almost ethereal in her calmness. "Sometimes you need something small and sweet as a pick-me-up."

They were both concerned in their own way, saying whatever came to mind to drown out the underlying tension. Ashe didn't know how much they knew, how much news of the incident had spread. He couldn't pretend that it hadn't happened- not unless he ran away and avoided talking to everyone he knew, which honestly was tempting as an idea, especially now that he was being confronted with the awkward, uneasy strain of interacting with the outside world.

And when he looked to the buffet spread before him, Ashe felt queasy. He remembered _that_ time in the dining hall. He remembered all the times he'd tried to throw up all the gross feelings he felt inside but only threw up his dinner. He was starving, and he wanted so badly to thank his friends for all of their hard work and effort, but could he trust himself to do that? Could he trust his stomach?

Just an hour ago he'd lambasted himself for being a coward. He didn't want to be one again. Refusing to speak up, refusing to recover... it was too late for regrets, but not too late to stop himself from creating new ones.

So Ashe nodded, and forced a smile. "Thank you," he said quietly, and brought the tray onto his lap. He could practically feel the smiles on his friends' faces as he took the cutlery into hand. There really was an overwhelming amount of food.

But he could manage it. A little at a time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry again for the wait. Fatigue hit me like a truck the past couple of weeks, haha.


	13. Chapter 13

Ashe was still busy peeling small strips of skin off the roasted pheasant- chewing and swallowing each strip with careful slowness- when there was another knock on the door. In contrast to Annette's single, hurried tap with her elbow, this series of knocks was quick and efficient. It could only belong to a faculty member. The room fell quiet, all eyes turning to Ashe as he forcibly swallowed the mush in his mouth.

He nodded without a word, and Sylvain called out "Door's open!"

Though Ashe had slowly been filling his belly up, it felt hollow now as Byleth entered the room. They paused upon seeing the gathered students and their half-empty plates. "Is now a bad time?"

The girls continued to stare at Ashe, and when he had no response besides to shuffle awkwardly, they both hustled up to their feet. "It's fine, totally fine!" said Annette. "We brought waaay too much food anyway. C'mon, uh, let's see if anyone else hasn't had lunch yet!"

Truthfully, Ashe wanted them to stay. He wanted to hear more of Annette's long-winded anecdotes while Mercedes nibbled away at a tart and corrected her more outlandish retellings. It had to have been over a month since he'd last enjoyed their company like this. The realisation made him feel even emptier inside.

They took the trays with them as they left. Before picking up Ashe's, Mercedes plucked a sweet bun off of it and prodded it gently into his hand. "We'll talk to you later Ashe. Remember you need to drink plenty of water as well, okay? And take a walk if you can, even if it's only up and down the hall!"

"Of course. Thank you." He smiled a little at her mothering, and she smiled back with twice as much radiance. He cradled the bun in his hand and clung to that warm feeling for as long as he could, even after she and Annette had disappeared through the door.

Sylvain offered his chair to the professor and moved himself next to Ashe on the bed. He caught Ashe's eye for a quick moment and nodded to him quietly, his expression carefully neutral. Probably trying to assure him that he could cancel this impromptu meeting at any time. Ashe kept it in mind and took a steadying breath.

"How are you feeling?" Byleth opened with, simple and to the point.

"Better. Better than last night, that is. Sylvain and the others have been incredibly helpful." He glanced back to the redhead. "Actually, I don't think I've thanked you for it yet. You've... really done so much for me."

Sylvain rolled his eyes, though it was accompanied with a smile. "Don't get sappy with me while the teacher's here! Save your praise for when there's a girl I need to impress."

Now it was Ashe who rolled his eyes, and he didn't miss the slight arch of Byleth's brow either. "In any case," they said, "you're free to continue staying with Sylvain for however long is necessary."

"Oh, Professor, I couldn't..."

Byleth shook their head. "Even if it isn't him specifically, I feel it would be best for you to be accompanied by a classmate wherever possible. At least until we have a clearer understanding of how we're going to move forward."

The confusion must've shown on Ashe's face, as Byleth elaborated. "Hallam von Edevane is currently under the church's custody for the crime of assaulting another student. You, him, and Sylvain are the only ones who know anything more about what happened last night. Given that ambiguity, and the seriousness of the charge against one of our own students, the church is having to take its steps carefully."

"That _almost_ sounds like the church doesn't entirely believe Ashe." Though Sylvain sounded nonchalant, there was a hardness in his eyes that made Ashe shiver.

"Hallam is insisting that the situation is a misunderstanding, and that the violence inflicted upon him by Sylvain is the worst of what happened-"

"That's _bullshit_ -"

"That said." Byleth silenced Sylvain with a single, stolid look. "I have personally spoken with Lady Rhea and she is in full agreement that Ashe is the victim in this. Though a full account would be preferred, she believes that what Sylvain has told us- alongside Ashe's obvious injuries- will be enough to have Hallam expelled, if not arrested."

Ashe swallowed thickly. Less than a day had passed and so much had already been solved. He knew he should be grateful for it, but he couldn't shake the dread that clung to him like a dark cloak. Nor could he ignore the voice that mocked him for how long he'd been taken advantage of; for how much harm he'd caused himself when the solution had been so simple.

_It's not your fault._ he forced himself to think. _None of this was your fault._

"Lord Edevane has been notified." Byleth continued, their voice distant. "It's likely that he'll be arriving at the monastery within the next few days. We can also expect him to push back against the accusations aimed at his son. I don't want to rush either of you, but if there's anything else you can divulge about what happened..."

Ashe could feel his lips moving, though no sound came out. He'd swore to tell the professor everything after the ritual and he wanted to hold himself to his word, even though things had changed drastically since then. But there was too large of a gap between what he _should_ do and what he _could_. The words hung heavy on his tongue, making it harder to breathe. He could feel a cold sweat break across his freshly-washed skin.

"Ashe." Sylvain said his name so quietly that he almost didn't hear it. When he looked across, Sylvain pursed his lips and shook his head gently. "He needs rest right now." he continued, turning to Byleth. "Can we put a rain check on this?"

"...Of course. My apologies, I didn't mean to cause you distress." The professor rose from their seat and stood before Ashe, one hand coming down to rest on his shoulder. He tensed at the touch, but forced himself not to pull away. "Take as much time as you need, and don't feel pressured into speaking up: even if you can't, I'll be fighting for you with everything that I have."

"...Th-thank you." Ashe couldn't bring himself to face his teacher; he wouldn't be able to handle it if their expression was anything besides their usual stoicism.

"I've arranged it so that you're exempt from classes until you've recovered. Ingrid and Annette have both offered to take notes for you, so you needn't worry about your grades."

"Don't suppose they can extend their generous offer to me too?" Sylvain joked.

"Would you even have need of them? From what I've gathered, you're intent on letting your grade hang lower than where it should."

"What? Who's been saying that about me?" He tried to play it off, but Sylvain couldn't hide the genuine alarm that flashed in his eyes. Byleth's lip twitched as they pulled their arm away from Ashe and made for the door.

"I'll return to class as soon as I can." Ashe said before they left. "And not because I feel like I have to, I... I want to."

They looked back at him, and this time they didn't hide their small smile. "I'll look forward to it. Rest well."

Ashe nodded in thanks and closed his eyes in time with the door shutting. It had gone better than he'd hoped- he'd been able to keep all his turbulent emotions at bay, and didn't even feel that sick now that it was done.

Still... "You okay?" Sylvain asked, with that sincere tone that Ashe still wasn't used to.

"I'll be alright. I think I feel a headache coming on, though."

"I'll head over and see if Professor Manuela has anything to help. I think you could use a little alone time anyway." Ashe felt him lift from the bed and then heard his footsteps as they moved to the door and paused there. "And, Ashe?"

His eyes fluttered open, and he caught Sylvain's gaze. "What is it?"

"If you really don't want to bunk with me then we can sort that out. But you should talk to me if that's the case." He smirked. "No more trying to sneak away while I'm sleeping, alright?"

Ashe had nearly forgotten. His cheeks flared, and he rubbed his neck awkwardly. "R-Right, I'm- I'm sorry."

"A lot of people would kill for the chance to sleep in my room. You shouldn't squander it!" Sylvain winked, seeming more like the boy Ashe had known up until this mess started. He huffed to himself as Sylvain left. He really was a great person- if only he could do away with his unsavoury side...

Once the door was closed, with no threat of another surprise guest, Ashe pulled himself up onto the bed and lay himself across the covers. He didn't mind staying with Sylvain. No, he realised, he _wanted_ to. For all that his nerves were out of control, he knew it'd be worse if he was left to ruminate in his own room. And Sylvain couldn't have made it clearer that he didn't mind having Ashe with him. There wasn't any good reason to protest the arrangement, besides that ever-present nagging in his head. He could feel his headache thrum with pain each time it insisted that he was being a bother.

He took a bite of the sweet bun and focused on its taste rather than the mess tumbling about in his mind. It was barely afternoon and he'd already managed to tire himself out. He'd like to take a walk like Mercedes suggested, but for now he was content to lay back and count the swirls in the wooden rafters above.

* * *

The same sight greeted Ashe that night as a nightmare wrenched him out of his sleep. His chest heaved as the half-formed sensation of being shoved against a wall faded from his mind. The covers were tangled around him and sweat coated his body, making him feel warm and cold at the same time.

He kicked the sheets away and wiped at his face, waiting slowly for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. The door was ajar, letting in warm light from the candlelit hallway. Ashe's eyes immediately went to the chair, which was empty. For a moment he was struck with the terrifying thought that this might be another recursive nightmare, but a quick pinch of his wrist reassured him that it was reality.

"...where... you..."

A familiar voice leaked in alongside the light. Ashe stumbled up to his feet, dressed again in nightclothes that were a size too large. He remembered getting dressed, but not falling asleep. In fact, the last thing he remembered was arguing with Sylvain about their sleeping arrangement.

_"I can't ask you to sleep in the chair again."_

_"I'm doing it even if you don't ask." Sylvain had replied blithely, rocking back in the seat in question._

_"Sylvain..!"_

Now he was outside the room, talking to someone in the dead of night. Much later than when he'd spoken with Dimitri. Curiosity got the better of Ashe, and he sidled up to the crack in the door. Really, he was just desperate for something to take his mind off the nightmare that still clung to him like grime.

"A walk." That dismissiveness couldn't belong to anyone but Felix. "Go back to bed."

"Oh, so is this why you're so grouchy in the mornings? Not getting enough sleep?"

"Shut up." Ashe heard footsteps, but only a couple before Sylvain spoke up again.

"What are you planning to do when you get there?"

Ashe's breath hitched in his throat. He had a good idea of what they were talking about. "It's not your business."

"It's Ashe's, and that's close enough for me."

"Since when did you start caring for any of our classmates that don't adorn a skirt?"

"I'm being serious, Felix." And Ashe could hear it- the drop in tone, the lack of smile in his voice. "You're not gonna be doing anyone a favour if you get yourself in trouble."

Felix scoffed. "I won't abide by a school that turns on me for punishing those who deserve it."

"Even if you're fine with getting kicked out, you know that Ashe won't be."

"I'll only be expelled if I'm caught." There was a pause, and then a deep sigh from where Felix stood. "I'm not going to _kill_ him, stop looking at me as if I am."

"I never can tell with you, y'know..."

There was some more back-and-forth, but then Felix's footsteps disappeared down the corridor while Sylvain's turned back to the room. Ashe pattered to the bed, nearly tripping himself as he hurried back under the covers. He squeezed his eyes shut, heart fluttering as he heard Sylvain seat himself.

A moment or two passed, just enough for Ashe to calm down a little, before Sylvain spoke up. "I heard you moving around Ashe."

His shoulders tensed. Sylvain chuckled as it caused the sheets to move. "I'm not mad, but I didn't take you for an eavesdropper."

With nothing more to hide, Ashe pulled himself up into a sitting position. "I'm sorry. I had a bad dream. I was... looking for a distraction, I guess."

"I get it. And hey, don't worry about Felix; his bite is bad, but his bark is usually worse."

That wasn't exactly a reassurance, but Ashe nodded anyway. "You were right: I'd hate for him to get in trouble on my behalf."

"He's got an odd way of showing it, but he cares." Sylvain reached over and tapped the side of the bed. "More importantly, you should be getting all the rest that you can."

Though they couldn't make out much of the others expression, Ashe still smiled at him ruefully. "It's hard to sleep well knowing that you're not doing the same."

"Don't get on that again. Unless you're inviting me to sneak in there with you?" Ashe barely had time to process the statement before Sylvain rolled it back. "Ack, sorry, that was insensitive. Maybe I can crash in Felix's room or-"

"A-actually." Ashe clutched the sheets, his heartbeat racing once more. Not for the reason that someone like Sylvain might expect, but... "Do you... do you think it would help?"

He remembered being young and crawling into Lonato or Christophe's beds when the nightmares got the better of him. He immediately regretted suggesting something so childish, and shook his head quickly. "No, no, never mind, that was silly to suggest-"

"I wouldn't mind."

Ashe froze, only to shake his head twice as hard. "No, really, I'd hate to impose on you like that, and it's such an embarrassing thing to ask anyway."

"It'd solve our sleeping problem, wouldn't it? And if it helps you sleep then all the better." He saw the dark shapes of Sylvain's hands raising into the air. "But if it turns out that it makes you uncomfortable then you can kick me out anytime you want. Literally, just boot me out of there."

Ashe wasn't sure whether to laugh. "Sylvain..." 

The other boy hoisted himself over from the chair to the side of the bed, looking to Ashe for further permission. After a long moment of contemplation, embarrassment, and some much needed self-encouragement, Ashe scooted closer to the wall so that Sylvain could lay out on top of the covers. 

There was something undeniably weird about the arrangement; Ashe could only imagine what the others would think if they happened to walk in. But as he shuffled down into a sleeping position, Ashe was just able to catch the expression on Sylvain's face- an open trustworthiness that was counter to everything that Ashe knew about him.

"Remember, you're free to kick me out if you need to." Sylvain quirked a smile before closing his eyes, resting on his back- it'd be a little too weird if they went to sleep facing each other. Ashe huddled down into the covers, letting the absurdity of the situation wash over him.

And once it was done, what was left... wasn't too bad. Ashe liked the presence of something solid nearby. There'd never been these moments of quiet with Hallam. So long as there was still a boundary between him and Sylvain, then Ashe figured that it would be alright.

He closed his eyes slowly, then allowed his breathing to slow. He didn't fall into slumber any quicker than usual, but, once he found himself there, he didn't wake again until the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me booting up FE3H to double check the ceilings in the dorms: what the fuck these kids all have _chandeliers_ in their rooms? I hate this place


	14. Chapter 14

Another bad dream forced Ashe awake just as the sun was starting to crest the horizon. His eyes snapped open and for a nauseating moment he couldn't discern anything in the dimly-lit room. He pressed an arm over his face and waited for the dizziness to subside, and the sweat dotting his skin to cool, before he tried to get up properly.

He was aware immediately of the weight on the other side of the bed. Sylvain was turned away from Ashe, but the steady rise and fall of his chest seemed to indicate that he was sleeping- and quite peacefully too. Much more so than when Ashe had last seen him asleep. Then again, almost anyone would rest better when laid out on a mattress rather than a wooden chair. What doubts Ashe had harboured about sharing a bed were quickly disappearing now that he knew how beneficial it had been to them both.

He raised his body up slowly so as to not disturb Sylvain and then stretched his arms once they were free of the covers. The sky outside was a gentle lilac; if he listened carefully, he could hear faint birdsong as other creatures began to go about their day. The morning chill nipped at his nose, but the rest of him was warm. It was like a quiet limbo all to himself, a precious moment to prepare for the day ahead.

Ashe smiled. He felt pretty okay right now.

* * *

With Ashe being dismissed from his studies, he was left to his own devices when Sylvain needed to go to class alongside the other Blue Lions. "Cyril's gonna be cleaning the dorms for the whole morning." Sylvain said as he prepared to leave. "So if anything happens, he can get one of the professors for you. And some of the guys from the other houses will be about- you know Marianne, right? Though, uh, I guess she's not much for conversation..."

Ashe stifled a laugh. It'd been a long time since he'd been babied so fervently, and while it would normally dampen his mood to remember how both his first and second families would often treat him, that it was now Sylvain who was worrying over him was something too bizarre to be sad about. "Thanks, Sylvain, but I'll be fine. Cyril alone is one of the most reliable people in the monastery."

"That's not wrong, but it's weird to think about when he's also the youngest kid here." Sylvain busied himself at his mirror, applying some last-minute tweaks to his artfully dishevelled hair. 

"You'll be picking up my notes from Annette, right? Please give her my thanks when you do."

Sylvain chuckled. "You can tell her yourself; you know she won't be able to resist barging in here again."

"Hah, you're probably right."

With his appearance now as maintained as ever, Sylvain hurried out of the door, calling back to Ashe as he pulled it shut. "Remember to stretch out those legs! I'll bring lunch once class is done!"

"Thank you!" Ashe felt a light flutter in his chest as the door closed and the handle snapped back into position. He listened carefully as Sylvain's footsteps disappeared down the hall, until they were nothing but an echoing imagination in his head. He breathed, acutely aware of his newfound aloneness.

Though he felt restless from being cooped up in Sylvain's room for a whole day, Ashe wasn't quite ready to go outside. His leg bounced as he thought about what to do. There were some piles of books atop the back drawers, but the thought of sitting down to read just made him more listless. What else would he normally do when he was bored? He couldn't cook while he was in here, or garden, or practise archery...

That last thought did give him an idea though. Placing himself in the middle of the room, Ashe brought one arm up and behind his back while the other applied pressure to its elbow. He couldn't do archery, but he could at least work through his usual stretches to keep himself limber. Plus, he'd heard somewhere that exercise was as good for the brain as it was for the body, though he wasn't too sure about the specifics of it.

In any case, that's how Ashe found himself working up a light and pleasant sweat. He distracted himself from the monotony by imagining the steps he would take if he were at the archery range: pulling on his arm guard and glove after he'd done his stretches; lining up an open stance, keeping himself poised but relaxed; setting the arrow into its rest and then nocking it with a satisfying _click_ ; drawing back until his fingers were nestled under his jaw and the taut string brushed against his lips; closing out the world until there was only him, the target, and the arrow; and then, finally, setting the shot free, bringing himself back to reality as the arrow was brought to rest in the bullseye.

It was only real in his mind, yet still he felt the satisfaction of a perfect shot. He replayed the scenario a few more times, rekindling that excitement and joy for the craft that had gotten buried over the past few weeks. In fact, he could almost pretend that the last month hadn't happened at all, and he was still just a carefree boy learning how to perfect his favourite pastime.

What broke his fantasy was a sudden, loud _CRASH!_ that nearly caused him to overextend his arm. 

"HEY!"

Ashe froze in place. The yell didn't seem directed at him- the door was still soundly closed- but it had come from very close by, maybe even next door. Panic seized him as he realised that he had no weapon on hand.

"Huh? He's not in here..."

Wait... the voice was a familiar one. Ashe didn't have time to place it before the person marched over to Sylvain's room and suddenly barged in as aggressively as they'd just barrelled into Dimitri's.

There was only one person Ashe knew who could exude such natural passion. "Caspar?!"

"Ah-ha, there you are!" The teal-haired boy laughed triumphantly to himself, oblivious to Ashe's shock. "Man, they should put names on the doors or something..."

"What are you-?!" He was cut off by the arrival of another boy, this one none too pleased with the sudden ruckus.

"I told ya that he's resting!" Cyril held a broom in one hand, its handle nearly a foot taller than him, and seemed about ready to poke Caspar with it. "Either leave him alone or stop being so loud!"

"Uh, who's the one shouting? And does he look like he's resting to you? That's the sweat of a guy who's ready for some action!"

They both turned to look at Ashe, and he wiped his wet brow self-consciously. "It was only a couple of stretches, really... but anyway, Caspar, what are you _doing_ here?"

"Right, yeah! I'm picking you up!" Caspar drove his fist into his open palm. "C'mon, we're gonna teach that guy a lesson."

"What? Which guy?"

"Isn't it obvious?" It was, now that Ashe had a second more to think about it, but that second wasn't enough to stop his stomach from dropping when Caspar answered. "The one who beat you up, obviously! Sneaking up on someone at night- we'll see how tough he really is when he can't play dirty."

Caspar had nothing but the best intentions in mind; knowing that, however, did nothing to stop Ashe's good mood from evaporating like a single droplet under the all-encompassing sun. Where he had previously been sweating from the heat, Ashe now only felt cold.

Cyril caught on to his distress quicker than Caspar, and scowled again at the other boy. "You're gonna get Ashe in trouble if ya bring him along. Plus Lady Rhea is already dealing with that guy. Beating him up is just gonna make it worse for her."

"That asshole's dad is gonna bail him out! I'm not letting him get away with it like that, not if I can help it."

"Uh-huh. Did Ashe _ask_ for your help? Cause he doesn't seem like he wants it."

"Please, anyone would want to get revenge on someone who beat them up. And I'm the best guy to help with that! Right Ashe?" Caspar turned to him again, his toothy grin fading at the lack of response. "Uh, Ashe?"

Ashe could feel a strange floatiness settling into his limbs. He was tempted to close his eyes and sit down, but made do with deepening his breaths. He'd only get worse if they dragged this on; he had to be straightforward with his words. "I'm sorry Caspar, but I really don't want to pay Hallam a visit of any kind. Just... thinking about it makes me a little queasy, to be honest."

Caspar looked ready to argue (and it certainly wouldn't have been the first time that their opposing desires led to a rather fierce quarrel) but was stopped by a broom handle rapping against his shoulder. "You heard Ashe, you're not visiting that guy. Don't think they'd have let ya in anyway- there was a big fuss this morning about his arm getting worse or something."

Ashe remembered first that Sylvain had broken it, and then second that Felix had paid Hallam a visit last night. Something cold but not entirely unpleasant shivered down his spine.

"Fine, fine, whatever." Caspar brought his hands to his hips, the determination in his eyes unwavering. "But you can't stay cooped up in here all day either. You've done your stretches, right? Let's go for a jog!"

"A... jog?"

"Clockwise from the stables till you hit the knight's hall. That's usually how I warm up before practicing with the dummies!" Shifting quickly into a fighting stance, Caspar let loose a demonstrative one-two punch. His aggressive style of fighting suited him perfectly. Ashe couldn't help but wallow for a moment in the idea that Caspar or Felix or Sylvain could've fended off an assault. He knew better than to think like that, and quickly shook the thought away, but the sting of its truth lingered.

When he pulled himself away from that funk, he realised that Cyril was waiting for him to pay attention. "Professor Byleth told me to remind you that taking a walk 'would help'. I don't really get what it's supposed to help with, and I don't think ya should go with that guy-"

"Well, it's true that you wouldn't be able to keep up with me."

The blank stare that Cyril responded with was absurdly unfitting for such a young face. Ashe felt a little of his earlier mirth return. "Anyway, that's what the professor said. I need to clean up in here anyway, so it'd work out for both of us."

Ashe didn't see anything in particular that needed cleaning, but then his eagle eye was trained to spot a target, not dust mites. "Why don't you take a walk with us, Cyril? Then I can help you clean when we come back."

The younger boy blinked in surprise. An invitation likely wasn't something he received often.

"It'd be like sharing the load." Ashe continued, remembering how awkward Cyril could be about accepting help. "Obviously you'll get the room cleaned quicker with an extra set of hands, and in return, erm..."

Ashe could feel a light flush across his cheeks. He turned his head away from Caspar and Cyril's inquisitive gazes. "It- It'd actually mean a lot right now if I could have some people to walk with. I can't quite explain it, but..."

He was too embarrassed to elaborate, his murmuring trailing off into an awkward silence. He was thankful to Caspar for breaking it, even if his answer made Ashe blush harder. "Uh, yeah, I don't get it."

"Me neither." Cyril added. "But I guess I'm fine with coming along if that's what ya want."

"It's fine with me too." Caspar nodded, a gleam in his eye. "You can keep each other company while I blaze on ahead!"

Cyril blinked. "Mm-hm."

"It was a joke, I was joking! Yeesh, tough crowd..."

Though certainly far from where he'd expected the day to go, Ashe found himself warmed by the jovial atmosphere. He didn't even hesitate for long before following the two bickering boys out of the room, the thought of some fresh air in his lungs bringing back his smile from that morning.

He was far from perfect, but he still felt pretty okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I _think_ I have a proper chapter count now. If it ends up extending again then I'm disappearing into the amiibo gazebo to never return.


	15. Chapter 15

As expected, exercising with Caspar took every ounce of Ashe's energy and then some. He'd collapsed to the ground after staggering to the knight's hall for the final time (how many laps he'd managed, he hadn't bothered to count), chest heaving for what felt like an age. He and Cyril had been content to power walk at first, more interested in conversation while Caspar bolted ahead, but then Caspar had insisted that they take it seriously, and Cyril had wisely bailed after the first runaround, leaving Ashe to suffer the subsequent marathon alone.

Still, it had done well in keeping his mind off of unpleasant things. He had been so focused on putting one foot in front of the other that he hadn't had time to worry about anyone's eyes on him as he toured the monastery. And even though it felt like every muscle in his body was crying in pain, his mind felt uncluttered and fresh. When Caspar had jogged up to his collapsed form with a playful diss, Ashe had managed to smile and laugh through his desperate gasps for air.

He had taken another bath after that, this one much cooler and less painful than the last. This time he'd been content to rest his eyes and ruminate over the things he'd talked about with Caspar and Cyril, his mind eagerly picking apart the fresh content. He hadn't realised how much he needed it- something to think about that hadn't been stained by his assault.

Then he had dried himself off, redressed, and enjoyed another lunch in Sylvain's room, cheeks dusted pink as he recounted his lively morning to the redhead. Though Sylvain had snickered, he'd also commended Ashe for getting out of the room. "I'm serious," he'd said between bites of his fish sandwich, "You can play it off all you want, but you're pretty damn strong in the ways that count."

Ashe _had_ tried to play it off, even as his face had grown redder. He had everyone else to thank for the invaluable support that they'd been offering him, even when they didn't realise it. Had he not been surrounded by such amazing friends, then he likely would've locked himself away and waited to rot.

When Ashe had told that to Sylvain, or a briefer version of it at least, he'd simply replied, "It takes a pretty special person to gather so many good friends."

The words had stuck with Ashe through the rest of the day; when Ingrid came to visit with Dorothea in tow, and the songstress had regaled them with a performance in-between her bouts of flirting with all three people in the room; when Annette had arrived with more homemade dinner, 'a perfect third attempt!'; and then when both of the boys had retired for the night, Ashe revelling in the comfortable lethargy that came after an eventful day. Even the nightmares that he'd come to expect were less visceral than normal, tame enough that he wasn't roused from his sleep before sunrise.

All in all, Ashe was feeling pretty good- right up until he received the summon to Seteth's office.

He knew immediately why he'd been called, and felt the anxiety creep back in as the monk who'd delivered the message departed down the hall. Behind him, he heard Sylvain shift in his seat. "You want me to come with?"

Ashe worried his lip. Of course he wanted Sylvain to come, but agreeing to it felt like he was betraying the slither of independence that he'd been able to take back for himself. He had been feeling better than ever, and couldn't stand the thought of regressing back into the timid wreck that needed Sylvain to do all the talking for him. 

He tried to remind himself that it'd barely been three days, he could expect a slip-up now and then, but his stubbornness won out and he forced himself to reply with nonchalance. "It's fine, thank you. I could use some alone time to think."

"Sure thing." He didn't know if Sylvain believed him, and he hurried out the room before he was tempted to turn around and check.

The hallway was less imposing now that Ashe had been hurried down it by an exercise-hungry Caspar. He hummed something tuneless to himself as he pattered down the stairs and out into the greenhouse area, the morning sun above reflecting off the glass so it looked like the structure was glowing from the inside. The scents of flowers and fish intermingled as he walked through the garden and past the pond. So many sights and sounds and smells that he felt like he hadn't experienced for ages. Ashe focused on appreciating them all as his body carried him to the steps leading to the upper floor.

There weren't many people around, but he did feel some eyes on him as he passed through the main building. The bruising on his neck hadn't healed completely, but enough so that a brief glance wouldn't pick it out. The blue-purple shiner on his cheek stood out more, but there were enough mishaps in the training hall that an injury here and there wasn't out of place. Ashe told himself all of this as he fought the intense urge to duck his head and hurry along faster.

At the very least, no-one interrupted him as he arrived at the stairs and returned to the second floor. He hesitated outside of the audience chamber, struck with a fluttering in his chest as he realised that Lady Rhea might be on the other side. Though he was getting better at not disparaging himself so much, the thought of intruding on her holy presence appalled him. He hurried past the double doors and down the corridor to Seteth's office.

The door was half-open, and he could see Seteth scribbling away dutifully at his desk. Ashe had always retained a strict impression of the man, not helped now by the furrow of his brow and his naturally tight posture. Taking a breath to soothe the butterflies in his stomach, Ashe knocked on the door.

Seteth looked up, an emotion that Ashe couldn't describe flitting across his face before he settled back into his usual stoicism. "Greetings Ashe. Please, come in and have a seat."

Ashe nodded and slipped into the office, but his hand hesitated on the handle as he went to close the door behind him. Seteth was quick to notice. "It's fine to keep the door open if you would be more comfortable with that. However, I must warn you that the topic I wish to discuss with you is of a... sensitive nature."

Swallowing thickly, Ashe pushed the door shut and then seated himself before he had time to regret it. Seteth rose from his desk and sat opposite of Ashe at the low-cut visitor's table. "Have your injuries been healing well?"

"Yes, uhm, sir?"

"No need for that, Seteth will do."

"Understood, si- Seteth." Ashe pressed his palms against his legs so he wouldn't end up fidgeting. "Yes, I've been healing fine. Nothing to complain about except some aches and pains."

"I see. Please do refer yourself to Professor Manuela if any complications arise." Ashe nodded again. There was an odd tension in the air; he had the feeling that Seteth was skirting around the actual reason that he'd called on Ashe. "And I presume that Professor Byleth has made the necessary arrangements to accommodate for your recovery period?"

"Yes, yes, they've been very helpful. All of my classmates too."

"That is good to hear."

A heavy silence fell between them. Seteth crossed his arms, his jaw occasionally twitching as he struggled to find the right words to continue. Ashe felt no need to hurry him along. He turned his attention to the office, reading over the various scriptures and drawings pinned on the board behind the desk. He felt a little queasy and tried not to remember the fruity breakfast that now lay in his stomach.

"I'm afraid I cannot find a way to gently broach the subject." Seteth spoke quietly, but his words seemed to echo in the empty air. Ashe balled his hands into fists and forced his attention back to the conversation. "Yesterday evening, I was responsible for the interrogation of Hallam von Edevane regarding the events of the 26th."

Ashe stared intently at the table.

"To be truthful, he seemed to have some issues with distinguishing between what was real and what was mere fantasy. He implicated you and a number of your classmates in the Western Church's conspiracy against Lady Rhea. He also claimed that a spectre tormented him during the night."

 _I won't abide by a school that turns on me for punishing those who deserve it._ Ashe bit the inside of his mouth and remained silent.

"However, there was one point brought up that I felt was necessary to confirm with you. Well, it wasn't exactly discussed, but it wasn't difficult to notice the... implications of what he was saying."

"Sorry, I'm... not quite sure what you mean?"

He didn't like how long it took Seteth to respond. He didn't like how Seteth's arms unfolded so he could instead clasp his hands together, nor did he like how Seteth was no longer looking him in the eye.

"In the weeks preceding the night of the assault," he said, "did you and Hallam have a sexual relationship?"

For a moment, Ashe couldn't breathe. His body simply forgot how to operate. He could no longer feel the fabric under his fingers. His vision darkened at its edges. Panic blossomed in his stomach and pain split across his head. He forget where he was. He couldn't name the man in front of him.

"Ashe?"

He blinked, and he blinked, and slowly his mind grew used to the motion and moved on to his mouth. He breathed in. And then out. In and out. Stay grounded. The words floated in his head as he clasped his knees for dear life.

"Yes." he croaked, the voice foreign on his tongue.

"Was it-" The man hesitated, brought his hand up to his mouth as if reluctant to let his question out. "Did you consent to it?"

Ashe didn't feel like time had passed, but quite suddenly he found himself in a different position, his body loose and tilted to the side and only kept up by a foreign hand on his shoulder. "It's alright, I have you." someone said, their voice warbled like he was listening from underwater. Dark shapes danced across his vision.

"Put your head between your knees, it will help." He followed the instruction numbly. His hands were cold and shaking as he dug them into his hair. He was cold all over, a chilly layer over his dull panic.

However, the new position helped. Ashe's head pulsed with dizziness a few times but then settled back into something close to its normal state. Warmth slowly crept back into his body. The ringing in his ears that he hadn't even noticed began to subside. He remembered where he was, and what had just happened. "I'm sorry," he mumbled. "I don't know what-"

"It's quite alright. Just focus on your breathing." Ashe did that, and after a few moments he felt Seteth's hand lift from his shoulder. He heard him walking over to another part of the room. The clink of porcelain.

Slowly, Ashe brought his head back above his knees. It felt like his skull was lined with cotton, but at least he wasn't at risk of toppling over again. More than anything, he felt embarrassed for reacting in such a dramatic way. Like some maiden out of his knightly tales.

 _No,_ he forced himself to think. _You went through something terrible. It's okay to react that way._

It wasn't something that he could convince himself of so easily, but repeating the thought did help him feel a little better. 

Seteth returned to the table with two teacups in hand. He handed one over and Ashe was greeted with the scent of sweet apple. Not a taste he would've assumed Seteth would like... ah, but Flayn probably did. The thought warmed him as much as the teacup held in his hands. Seteth seemed a little less intimidating when Ashe remembered that he was an older brother like himself.

"My deepest apologies for causing you distress." Seteth said. His cup lay untouched in front of him. "It is an upsetting subject, and I should have approached it with more delicacy."

Ashe took a sip and swallowed. The sweetness seemed to stick to his tongue. "It's alright, I- I had no idea I would react that way. And I think I appreciate you being direct rather than... uh, not."

"You needn't be gentle with me, especially at the expense of your own feelings."

Ashe didn't quite know how to reply to that. His reassurance had come naturally, and he really didn't blame Seteth for what had happened. He took another sip to fill up the silence. 

"In any case, I believe your reaction more than answered my question. To think that such a depraved individual was living under my nose..." Ashe had never seen Seteth look so sour. He couldn't help but wonder if the man was thinking of his little sister's safety. "Rest assured that I shall be doing everything in my power to ensure that Hallam receives his comeuppance."

It should've been a reassurance, but Ashe diverted his gaze anxiously. "Will you be reporting what- what happened between me and him?"

"Not if you don't wish me to. Even if his most sordid acts remain a secret, I will ensure that he does not go unpunished for them."

Something tight within Ashe's chest unfurled a little. He took a moment to recognise the feeling as relief. "I think... that's all I want, really. Thank you so much."

"It is the very least we can do for you." Worry still creased Seteth's brow as he watched Ashe take another drink. "I confess, I am unqualified to offer anything besides my ear when it comes to a situation like this. Should you need help, I would hope you could receive it from Professor Manuela. She may be... capricious, but she is an excellent doctor of both the body and mind. Of course, it is entirely up to you whether you feel comfortable seeking her assistance."

"I'll keep it in mind, thank you." He wasn't sure he was ready for another person to discover the truth, not after how he'd just reacted, but... maybe soon. The thought of it gave him unease and hope in equal measure. It tired him out to have emotions that were so strong and yet so contradictory.

"Now then. I don't wish to keep you any longer than you need to be." Seteth stood up, prompting Ashe to lower his empty cup and do the same.

"Thank you again, for everything that you're doing." Ashe offered a bow of his head, but Seteth shook his in turn.

"I am only doing what is right. You should be more grateful to yourself; you have been incredibly brave through all of this."

'Brave' was the last word Ashe would've used to describe himself, but it warmed him all the same. He fought the urge to thank Seteth for a third time and instead only bade him farewell. Once he was out of the room, he rested himself against the wall and exhaled deeply.

Everything would be okay. Ashe had kept forcing himself to think it, but now, he was starting to believe it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by me nearly fainting after a blood test at the doctors ✌️ Anaemic gang rise up but not too quickly.


End file.
